


LIMBO

by WhiteSwanCake (Courtorderedcake)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Character Death, F/M, Kinda, Lost Love, Multi, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-07-25 08:45:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Courtorderedcake/pseuds/WhiteSwanCake
Summary: A CS afterlife AU.





	1. i

“Welcome, Mr. Scarlet.” 

Will blinked. He looked around the gray room, with its large loft window that showed a rainy view of a garden, the large bookshelves filled with books, a steel desk and the pale woman behind it. She looked at him expectantly, and he found himself confused. Why was he here?

“I… Uh.”

“Eloquent.” She stood, revealing a crisp black suit and pants. Her platinum hair was in a tight braided bun on her head, and her lips were a thin line. Walking to sit at the edge of her desk, she turned to pick up a clipboard. “Will Scarlett. 30. Bad luck on that. Hm. Interesting. Alright, buddy. Let me guess, you have no memory of how or why you’re here?”

He dumbly shook his head no. 

“Okay. Do you want me to sugarcoat things, or do you want it blunt?”

“Um. Er… Blunt I s’pose?” 

“Alright.” She put the clipboard down, and crossed her legs. “I’m Emma. I’m your assigned guardian while you’re here. You’ll follow my guidance as we make amends or help finish any business you have left to take care of. Oh.” she looked him straight in the eyes, unblinking, “And you’re dead.”

Will sputtered, confused. “I am really bloody drunk, this dream is insane.” 

Emma sighed. “This is Limbo, and you’re dead. You’re stuck here like all of us until you finish whatever it is you need to finish. You won’t remember for a bit, days or weeks. Traumatic events take longer, usually coming back bit by bit. I can tell you, if you like.”

“This is a sick joke. What kind of drugs - “

Emma waved her hand, and with a pull that felt like his navel was being stretched over his head, they were swallowed in thick gray smoke. As the smoke cleared, he saw in panicked wonder, they were in his apartment. 

“Fuck. What - I must be drugged. ‘Scuse me, Miss Ghost-of-Drunk-Nights-Past, but I’m ‘eading to bed.” Will walked to his bedroom, planning to collapse on the bed, but Belle was there instead. What was she doing here? She had a key, but she always sent him a text - where was his phone? 

“Belle, have you seen my phone?” he saw out of the corner of his eye that figment of his imagination/ghost/angel/hallucination Emma was leaning against the door jam, watching him without expression. Belle didn’t stir. 

He climbed into bed, stroking hair from her face, and she whimpered. “Belle?” 

She stirred, and he saw his phone in her hand. When he tried to grasp it, a peculiar feeling ran through his hand like hearing the electrical whine of a TV or smelling a thunderstorm approach, but in his hand as it passed through his phone. His head spun, and his breath refused to come as he watched Belle press the button on his phone to hear his voicemail, sobbing. She was wearing one of his shirts, had his phone, and he -

Belle turned and rolled over, hugging his pillow, and moved right through him as he shimmered like smoke. He stumbled back and felt himself falling back into gray smoke, back into the chair, back in front of Emma’s implacable gaze. 

“I’m… I’m really?” He covered his face with his hands, unable to summon tears. His shock was enough to numb him, until he found out if Limbo had a good bar. 

“Yes. You’re dead. Sorry buddy, it sucks but you get used to it. And I am here to help you move on, to a better place, if you so wish it.” Emma’s voice was monotone as she reached for his hand. “Come on. I’ll show you where you’ll stay.”

Unsurprisingly, Limbo - or the space between - was not very big, most people ready to move on when their time came. The main structures spread in an orderly fashion, everything kept on a grid where sparse trees and the occasional bush added a sickly green. Everything seemed gray, muted and washed out; the buildings were tall cement structures with no decoration, sat in beds of white gravel. They reminded him of school or his stints in and out of jail, the dreary space unsettling in it’s blandness.

“This is the Blox,” Emma pointed to a grouping of several unnaturally tall buildings, dotted with small windows here or there. “That’s where you’ll stay. You’re in building 4, Level 49, Room C. That makes your code 449C. Don’t forget it, that’s how we process paperwork.” He nodded as they continued walking down the straight asphalt path. No one waved hello as they walked, Emma’s purposeful stride intimidating any passersby.   
  
“There’s rules too, but we’ll go over them tomorrow. This is obviously a lot to take in.” They turned into what reminded him of a trailer park, but with small block-like homes arranged in a grid. They were the same polished concrete as the other buildings, but they had larger darkened windows and slatted metal porches that gave them a slightly less clinical feeling. He could see several rows, a few with small plants or items out, breaking the gloom. She lead him down a maze of streets. “This is my place, and this,” she made a gesture to the neighborhood, “is the Resident area.”

“So, you live here? Are you like, an angel?” Emma glared at him.    
  
“Do I look like an angel, Mr. Scarlet?” She stepped inside, her door unlocked. He mused that murder and robbery rates were probably not an issue after you were dead. “Make yourself at home for a moment. There’s tea in the fridge.”

“You’re a demon then. That makes sense.” He poured himself a cup of cold tea into a mug he found hanging under a small cupboard in the kitchen area. The tiny home was not as dreary as the outer space, decorated with more shelves of books, thick blankets, paintings on the walls in bright colors. The layout was cramped but functional, a living area that bled into a kitchen and small dining area, both capped by a porch. Off the living area he assumed was the bedroom and an ensuite, along with a small closet. It made a perfect rectangle in which the windows sat full size in, he realized now that what he assumed was right; the darkened windows were one way. A nice touch for privacy. “Hey, is my place this nice?”

Emma returned with a large binder, and looked out the side of her eyes at him, annoyance clear. “I stayed. That’s it. No demons or angelic hosts here. If you want to stay, you help run this place, I’m a guardian and I died just like you. I just… I can’t finish my unfinished business and I don’t want to become a Haunt. Drink your tea, I still have more to show you. And no. Your place is nowhere near as nice.”

“Of course it isn’t as nice.” Will took a sip of his tea, and gagged. “How much sugar is in this?” 

Emma shrugged. “I like it sweet. It’s not exactly like we need to eat, so taste goes a long way here. Are you done?”

“Yeah… I’m going to pass on a second death from diabetes.” He gave Emma a cheeky grin, only to receive another glare. Putting his mug down, he stood. “C’mon, that one was funny.”

“Ha.” She deadpanned, sarcastically. They walked out, Will following her as they made their way out of the residence area. Heading straight, they came to a small town area with a few shops, ending in a large cement building with a painted sign, bright red block print reading ‘Unfinished Drinks’. 

“There’s a bar?” Will laughed. “I guess getting pissed is a great way to forget you’re stuck -”

“Yeah. About that.” Emma frowned, with a loud huff. “You can’t get drunk here.”

“ _ What? _ ” Will exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “So there’s no food, you can’t get pissed... for fuck’s sake, what CAN you do here?”

“Not much. We call it Finny’s, and it’s a decent place to get a beer and some normalcy. The motto inside is, ‘You can't get drunk, but you can't die trying either’. Bartender is some guy who’s been here since Greek times. As for surviving the monotony here? Reading, painting, music.  Some people hook up, if you’re into that sort of thing.” Her eyes flicked away, and she began moving down a path past the bar. Will matched her pace, realizing they were heading slightly down hill towards a beach, if you could call it that.

“What… is that?” Will pointed out where the sand ended, watching a white, blank, nothingness lap at the beach. He threw a rock and watched it sink into the white, disappearing below. 

“This is what we’re surrounded by. It’s literally a sea of nothing.” A breeze pulled a blonde strand of hair out of her tight bun, a single golden thread against her face. He noticed she looked sad, her voice changing to a softness he hadn’t heard. “It’s as close to the sea as we have, so I come out here a lot. It’s actually one of the few places I find peace here, knowing we’re an island.”

“Why can't you just stay in the land of the living, if this place sucks -”

“And that, brings us to the rules.” She tapped her large green binder, and pointed to a large rock. They walked over and sat, as she opened the book. “Alright. Here we go. Rule number one, to answer your question: You can’t be in the Realm of the Living for too long. You become a ghost. It starts with a routine that you fall into, without really realizing it, and then you are compelled to follow it until you forget everything else. You become a mirage of what you were, only content to follow your routine forever. 

“The saddest though, is when that routine gets interrupted. You aren't yourself, you aren't one of us, and you're trapped knowing that you are lost while the one purpose you have is interrupted… Angry or upset spirits can be dangerous to the living or anything they happen to come into contact with. So, you check in with me, and I take you to the other Realm. Time moves weird here sometimes, so it definitely helps having a Guardian.”

“Time moves weird?” 

“Yeah. A day here can be a week there, or vice versa. No one knows why, just that it happens. You learn to go with it.” Emma shrugged, looking annoyed. 

“Oh.” Will blinked. 

“Two. You’ll remember your death over the next week or so, so if you need to talk let me or someone know. You can’t die here, but if you do something stupid, it’ll hurt like a son of a bitch. So don’t, alright? Three. To leave here, we solve your unfinished business or redeem negative actions that put you here. You always have the choice to stay here, or try to get to any of the other planes of existence by your own means.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“It means, that if you don’t want to stay here or go to the ‘good place’, you can try your damnedest to go to the ‘bad place’, make a zen garden, start praising the Norse gods in an attempt to go to Valhalla, whatever you want. I’m not here to dissuade you, only give you the chance to get to whatever paradise you believed in while alive. If that’s reincarnation, awesome. Heaven? Great, say hi to St. Peter. Nothing? Have fun in the endless abyss. If you want to change your beliefs, you can try to aim for something different while you’re here.”

“This place is weird as shit.” Will shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands.

“You’re telling me,” Emma murmured, face turned again towards the waves. “Rule four: Check in with me often. If you want something, I can try and get it. There’s a shipment once a month from a catalog, we don’t ask questions because there are no answers, but you exchange money for almost anything your heart desires. Like a couch, or paint and canvas.” She paused. “Check in with me if you start to feel off, too. If you miss things to much. It’s good to talk about it. For a long time I couldn’t figure out what I was missing besides the obvious. This place makes you miss the small things, like birds singing. I’d give anything to hear a gull shriek out here, or a seal. And color. I miss the color blue so much I…” Her fists clenched, body tensing. With a breath, she let it go, returning to her scowl. 

“Ya alright?” 

With a nod, she stood and gathered the binder to her chest. “We begin tomorrow, 9 am sharp. I’ll take you home.”

* * *

 

Emma was right. His room sucked.    
  
Inside the Blox was a large lobby, signs pointing to various elevators and staircases that criss-crossed through the building. He took an elevator to floor 49, and found his room easily at the beginning of the corridor marked with a large letter ‘C’ that took up the entire door. The hallway was a large square, and he could hear voices down the hall. 

Opening the door, a small white studio apartment lay behind it. It was more of a dorm than anything, the bed the largest thing in the room besides a desk and a counter for cooking. A door led to a narrow bathroom, and he sighed. Flopping onto the bed he did the only thing he could to stave off boredom, closing his eyes and drifting to sleep.

_ He tasted pennies and dirt, trying to roll over but bound by rope. There’s pain, and all he can think about is Belle. Belle has to be kept safe, and no one can hurt her. The scrape of a shovel in the dark, the weight pressing down on him like a vice and pushing the air from his lungs - _

_ He’d kissed her for the first time in the rain, under her yellow umbrella. It was just on the cheek, but to an 8th grader, it was everything. She’d yelled at him after, cheeks red and eyes so full of joy, giving him a sound smack for almost dropping the school books he carried for her.  _

_ Her face, red and disappointed through the glass of a visitation booth, asking why, why, why over and over, his silence the only answer he can give. He’s made her every promise and broken them with no delicacy. She says she’s tired, and he nods, looking down at his hands. His stupid hands. She’s going to leave him, slip through his fingers, and he deserves it. Even now they’re thousands of miles apart while she attends school. _

_ “Mr. Gold called me today.” He looks up, meeting her tear filled eyes. “He wants me to go on a date with him, for ‘business’ purposes.”  _

_ That breaks his silence, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. _ __   
_   
_ __ “You can’t, Belle, you promised you wouldn’t fall for his -”

_ “You are one to tell me about promises. Especially when it comes to breaking them.” Her voice trembling with rage. “I said no. He’s still adamant about it, and he sent me flowers.” _

_ “Belle, please, you know how this goes!”  _

_ “I’ll see you, Will. I’ll always love you in some way. You’re just not the man I know you can be.” _

* * *

 

He woke with a start, breathing heavily. Looking at the time he rushed to get out the door, not bothering to change clothes. He met Emma at the Guardian offices at ten after. 

“You’re late.” She said with a growl. “And you’re wearing the same clothes, do you need a second pair? They’re supposed to give you a few outfits in your dresser.” 

“Well, I didn’t know about the outfits thing, but uh, walking here I saw a naked man’s bollocks, so I believe I’m alright.” 

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. “I forgot to tell you, I’m sorry. And yeah. Some people don’t see the need for clothes, seeing as, well. You know. They let things hang out.” 

“Well it wasn’t what I expected my morning commute to be, that’s all.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and looked around. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Talking mostly. About what you think your unfinished business is, and how we can help you finish it.” Twirling a pen, she pulled out a clip board and looked at him expectantly. “So. What would you have done if you were still alive? Let’s start there.”

He thought for a moment. “Belle’s birthday was coming up. I wanted to take her to Paris. She didn’t want to get married again, so I got her a locket from a specialty jeweler I know, shaped like her favorite book. I put a picture of her and one of her kid, her and I together.”

“So you want her to get this locket?” Emma scrawled something on her clipboard.    


“No. More than anything I want her to get away from her ex-husband. Remington Gold.” He sighed. “The guy’s a psychopath, and Belle believes that he may have had a hand in their child’s death.”

“Wait, what?”

“Their child… He ingested a large quantity of drugs. I don’t know much other than that, it happened before we really got together.” Will looked up at her, his voice suddenly serious. “Do kids come here?”

“Not usually.” Emma said quietly. “Rare cases. We get teens quite a bit, who had a lot of life to live. Kids though, they’re usually innocent enough to skip any of this.” 

“Makes sense.” The silence in the office was broken by Emma tapping her pencil. 

“We’ll visit Belle today then, and set a trip once a week. You’ll need to identify how we’ll get her away, we might be able to influence her to move overseas -”

“It won’t work.” Will’s jaw muscles tightened, fists clenching. “Her ex-husband is loaded. He always finds her, one way or another.”

“I’m sure we’ll find a solution.” She tapped her pen on her clipboard again. “Let’s get going.”   
  
He braced himself as they disappeared into a cloud of smoke. They landed in Belle’s shop, the brightness of color and smell of books overwhelming at first. Being here was like a drug, his senses overwhelmed by the vibrance. When Belle entered his line of sight, he felt his mouth go dry. 

She was radiant, despite her obvious exhaustion. Her coworker and her sipped tea as they sorted books, Belle oblivious to the way he looked at her. Will's hackles rose.  

“It’s just really rough right now, with paying his half of the rent, and the police always coming by,” slumping her shoulders, she continued, hanging her head, “I’m afraid I’m going to lose this shop like I lost him. You know they still haven’t found him, and I just want to believe…”

  
“I can move in you know, and help with the rent.” Her  co-worker shrugged. “I won’t be there much anyway. My lousy boss keeps me at work constantly.” Belle cracked a smile. “As for not finding him, he made mistakes before, with jail, drug dealing and the robberies… I’m holding out he’s holed up somewhere.”

“Thanks Gaston.” Belle bit her lip, moving away from him. 

“I’d never just hole up somewhere and not let her know or check if she was safe.” Will growled. “How do I tell this asshole to stay away from her?”

Emma sighed. “We can only influence the living. It seems like she’s happy and unaware of his brand of flirting.”

Will crossed his arms, following Gaston around. “This guy is an ass. They don’t even know I’m dead, and Belle is obviously distressed, so he creeps in?” he made a face. 

“Maybe this wasn’t a good day to come. Let’s go back, we’ll try later when she’s not -”

“No, I want to stay and see what this jackass plans to do with my girlfriend!” Will snarled.  “That’s unfinished business, isn’t?”

“It’s not, and this reaction isn’t okay, you need to let her go, Will. She isn’t… She isn’t yours anymore.”

“Fuck you!” 

“You should want her to be happy.” Emma reached for him, but Will pulled away. 

“I do, and he is not good enough. I would wait forever for her, she deserves the best man -”

Emma poofed them back into her office, sighing.    
  
“That’s enough for today Will. You need to control your emotions better if we’re going to do that again. You need to be ready to let her go, to let her live her life.” 

He seethed, looking at her with hatred. “You talk such a big game, sitting here. Why haven't you moved on?”

“Because.” 

“That's not an answer, you have me bleedin' breaking my heart, actin’ all concerned for Belle's happiness, but won't even tell me why you got stuck here -”

“Drop it, Will. Just drop it.” Emma turned to look out the window, resting her elbows on her knees, and her head in her hands. She stared at nothing, impassive. Will felt his rage growing.

“What are you so scared of? What would be so horrible that you won't move on? How can you be such a hypocrite!”

“I'm selfish,” She whispered, and he couldn’t quite make it out. 

“What?”

“I'm selfish, OK? I'm fucking selfish. I…” Turning to look at him, Emma’s face broke. She pinched the bridge of her nose, and took a shuddering breath.

“The hell does that -”

"Tomorrow. Tomorrow, be here and I'll show you."

* * *

 

_ There was no pain in his dreams. Only warmth from Belle, pressed against him as they slept, her hair tickling his nose and sweater soft under his fingers. He held her close, half aware it was a dream to be savored.  _ __   
_   
_ __ The dream shifted into her shop, the gentle tone in her voice as she read to him when he brought her coffee between jobs. Belle could shred him with her wit, smarter than him by leagues. He loved that about her. She made him better, encouraged him to be something other than what the world labeled him as. Her world was built on words, built on listening to what someone could be at the end of their story. 

_ They held hands at the park, where he fed lettuce to the ducks making her laugh when they chased him. She named every species there, what he thought were just ducks turned into coots, mergansers, kingfishers, and buffleheads. He knew mallards, at least, and her smile bolstered him through his reddened cheeks.  _

 

_ With her hand in his, she led him through a world where the smallest things were a wonder, each door opening to more fascination.  _

_ “Will! Look!” her telltale shout that pulled him into her orbit, her eyes wide as she told him fact after fact about ordinary things, turning them into the extraordinary, filling his life with magic.  _ __   
_   
_ __ “Look at this little guy!” she pointed at a bumblebee, rolling in dusty yellow in a crocus. “Did you know? Out of the 20,000 species of bees only 4 make honey.”

_ They pushed out of a theatre, through golden doors. “Revolving doors are much better for energy savings as they exchange 8 times less air with the outside environment than regular doors.” She laughed, and pulled him along the sidewalk away as he stared back. The doors spun as people left, turning their collars to the cold.  _

_ Fingers deft against his neck, Belle tightens his tie for a party, some book signing he didn’t want to go to. “According to Swedish scientists, there are 177,147 ways to tie a necktie.” she whispered, trailing fingers down the front of his shirt. When he looked into her eyes, they’re dark, her lips parted just slightly. Pulling on his perfectly knotted tie, she brought his face closer, kissing him senseless.  _ __   
_   
_ __ “How many ways are there to take it off?” His voice is husky, and she laughed. 

_ They’re late to the book signing, his tie looser and her dress slightly wrinkled. They don’t care.  _

* * *

 

Belle had always seen the world differently. Mundane things became magical by  sheer force of will, her ex-husband’s horror put aside by making a world of wonder she could escape to. A place where she could still see her brown eyes mirrored in a chubby face, the small warm hand of her son in hers. Belle could run as far as she could into fantasy, easily falling into books that helped her forge a safe place.    
  
Will had been in her life since 6th grade, soft spoken and shy until their teenage years, when he’d begun to run with a gang. He’d become a thief, disappearing into a cycle of fights, drugs, crime and punishments. Belle was there when he got out, or he was hurt. Every time, he ran to her and she let him. It ended when she moved across the country to go to a premier business school, her visits less frequent if at all.   
  
College was a blur, her business classes dry and boring. Belle breezed easily through them with high marks and high praise, scoring a coveted internship at the pharmaceutical company Gold Industries, right under the CEO. Remington Gold was older, wiser, offering her mentorship over glasses of selected his private estate wines or dinner where he waved off the bill with a platinum credit card. He bought her clothing to look more professional, read to her from his antique book collection, showed her a menagerie of birds he kept in a ornate cage.    
  
When she was to leave, to finish school, he asked her to stay. At first she said no, but when his lips met hers and they ended up sprawled over his desk rumpled and sweating, things had changed.    
  
_ “I love you, Belle.” He’d murmured into her neck after.  _   
  
Belle had never been in love, but thought this could be it. Cared for, secure, wanting for nothing.    
  
Things moved fast. His first wife had disappeared years ago, and he had a son that lived overseas working internationally. He insisted he was lonely in his large palatial mansion, and asked her to move in. Belle declined, but was convinced to stay the night multiple times. Gold was pleased, and slowly convinced her to let him into every aspect of her life. 

Belle still wouldn’t move in with him, insisting it wouldn’t be proper with her job; she was already uncomfortable having sex on company time with her boss, who called her into his office more frequently than any other employee. They’d have tea or eat lunch together. He’d always beg her to move in once a week, and finally one day she snapped.    
  
_ “Do not ask me again, Rem. I like my apartment, and I’m not ready.” _

_ “I understand. I’m sorry Belle.” he’d kissed her hand, and hadn’t brought it up again.  _   


Slowly Gold eclipsed every aspect of her life. Belle stopped visiting Will or going home at all, instead enjoying the theater or a dinner with Gold. Her phone broke mysteriously after a company party, Gold paid for another and a fully loaded plan. He gifted her a new car, books, purses, anything he could. A maid knocked on her apartment door one morning and announced her services. A few months later, Belle fell ill. Gold had recommended a private doctor that served his family, a Mr. Facilier. She liked the doctor and his soothing voice. He was almost hypnotic, but extremely kind and methodical, making better options available for her on her new insurance; prescriptions for her birth control and a better allergy medication. This visit though, he looked grim, and something else flickered behind his eyes. A shadow of guilt.    
  
She’d vomited at the office as well, watching in her peripheral as Facilier winced with a hard swallow.    
  
He ran a few tests, had her pee in a cup, came back with results in his hands.   
  
_ “Congratulations, Miss LaFrance. You’re pregnant.” _

Belle moved into Gold’s house, and things were surprisingly good for a little bit. He pampered her and gave her anything she desired, telling her that his only request was that she didn’t enter the unfinished area on the west wing of their home. It wasn’t safe for someone in her condition, he assured.    
  
Gold was gone a lot, leaving Belle to read in the quiet of the house, only interrupted by occasional sounds from the west wing. Yells and shouts, occasional thuds and the sound of moving furniture or falling objects.    
  
Gold took her to dinner or they ate in with a chef after he returned home, Belle relishing his company after the long days alone. When a large merger of companies loomed, Gold paced their bedroom until she called him to bed. He muttered to himself, ignoring her. Walking to him in front of the fireplace where he paced, shadows long against the floor, she went to drape herself over him. The crack surprised her. 

Sitting on the floor while holding a stinging cheek, Belle looked up at him in confusion.    
  
_ “I’m so sorry Belle, I wasn’t - I was inside my head.” _

They had slept in silence that night, the bed feeling so much smaller when she didn’t want to be near him.    
  
Gold tried to make up for his mistake immediately. Flower vases filled with exotic blooms covered the kitchen when she’d woke up for breakfast. A shipment of dresses came around noon, one marked for her to wear that night. Gifts arrived all day for her, sometimes by the same courier who smiled at Belle with a nervous grin. 

She wore the dress, a yellow taffeta beauty that fell off her shoulders and accented her bustline with a graceful sweetheart cut. He arrive home with roses, a ring, and a promise:    
  


_ “I would never hurt you intentionally, and I am so sorry. I promise to be better. Marry me?” _

Belle said yes, the ostentatious ring heavy on her finger and her heart light in her chest. This had to be love, in every love story she’d read there were trials that the couple faced. She could change him, and they’d face this trial together. 

* * *

 

Emma didn’t say anything when he walked in, just nodded, and they were surrounded by grey smoke, his stomach becoming used to the strange pull of being one place and then another. 

The smell of sterile tiles and acrid plastic hit his nose. A hospital room.

In a bed, a man lay prone and covered in wires, large machinery whirring and beeping around him.

Emma walked to sit down at his bedside, gently picking up the man's hand as if it were paper.

He didn't stir.

Will looked across the room, painted in a severe white without adornment other than a few sparse chairs and a dead floral arrangement that littered dried, brown, petals on the ground.

A few framed pictures sat pushed face down on a low cabinet.

Will lifted them to find pictures of a young man in Navy regalia, saluting the photographer with a serious gaze broken by the slight smirk on his face. Another showed several men with beer all laughing with wide grins surrounding him as he clapped hands on the back of a man with sandy blonde hair. He couldn't place where, but the man looked familiar.

"My brother." Emma said slowly, behind Will. "David. Living on a farm with his wife and six children. One of the girls is named for me."

She lifted a photo of the injured man and a tall broad shouldered man with sandy hair standing awkwardly next to each other. They shared the same eyes, both a bright blue, both stormy. The tension was evident, a space between them and the easy good natured grin gone from his face.

"Liam. Killian's brother." She didn't expand, instead opening a drawer filled with more frames. Will blinked, almost not believing the sight in front of him. At least twenty framed photos lay in the drawer, all of a smiling Emma and this man, Killian. Happiness exuded from every one of their features, Emma beaming or mid laugh every photo, the severe bun and downturned grimace nowhere in sight.

She plucked a photo of them from the drawer, her hair long and curled against a bed of red and orange leaves, one arm raised to take the picture from above, Killian gazing at her with an adoration usually reserved for worshipping deities.

Taking it back to his bedside, she placed it near him and moved to smooth his bed sheets. Now on the other side of him, Will could see with growing understanding that his arm was missing from just below the elbow down, a gnarled stump matching scars that ran in silver lines across his face to match the silver in his shortened hair. He was much smaller as well, cheekbones gaunt and hard angles making it clear that he had been here a long time. Emma sat next to him again, rubbing his hand in small circles. 

"Emma... I'm -"

"When I first started coming here, after understanding I'd have to move on, I thought he responded to me. I thought," she looked up and swiped at her eyes and cheeks, "I thought he could hear me and I was some savior that would bring him back to me. I wanted, sometimes I still want..." she let out a sob and looked at the plug near him where wires ended in thick black plugs.

"Emma -"

"I don't deserve to move on. I don't. He has to wake up. Killian, you have to wake up."

She began to cry, face falling forward onto his bed, one hand over his and the other fisted in the white sheets.

As if on cue, a man stomped into the room, shaking off his umbrella and plopping down in the chair opposite to Emma, next to Will.

Emma looked up and narrowed her eyes.

"Ah. And right on time."

The man spoke in a lilting accent, Will recognized him from the photo where Emma had pointed him out. Killian's brother.

"Good Morning, Little Brother. Er. I mean, younger brother." He swallowed thickly and scratched the back of his neck.

"I was hoping maybe you would wake up today. I know I didn't visit this weekend, I was working. I know, I know. I work too much. Someone has to pay for you to laze about on your arse. They got a new coffee place here though, still can't make bloody tea correctly but the coffee is palatable." He cleared his throat and the almost silence of a busy hospital fell again.

Will had stopped paying attention until Liam stood and stormed toward the door, pressing the page button. Emma had wide eyes, her gaze stuck on the photo sitting on Killian's bedside.

"Shit," she winced through gritted teeth.

A woman in snowman scrubs came rushing in.

"Yes, Mr. Jones, has something changed? Does the patient have another infection?"

"I've told your staff not to touch his things." His voice was ice, cruel and without emotion.

"Mr. Jones, I'm not sure I understand -"

"Another picture of...  _ Her _ was placed over there," he pointed at Killian's bedside, spitting the word 'her' with venom. Will saw Emma set her jaw from the corner of his eye.

"Mr. Jones, with all and every due respect, my staff has not moved anything. Are you sure it wasn't another visitor?"

"He doesn't have any other visitors, just me. Family only."

"I don't know what to tell you, Mr. Jones. I'm sorry, I'll put it away and I will make sure my staff knows -"

"What's your name?"

"Elsa, Elsa Arendelle, I'll leave a note -"

"Your staff is incompetent, this happens almost once a month. Just get out, make yourself useful and get Dr. Whale. I want to talk about my brother's progress."

Elsa set her jaw, opening then shutting her mouth before turning to leave.

Liam grabbed the framed photo, stared at it a moment, and threw it hard back in the drawer Emma had pulled it from. He walked to stand at Killian’s bedside, unknowingly sitting across from Emma as she swiped tears from her eyes.

“You didn’t deserve this brother. I only wish you’d wake up, so you could live the life she tried to take.” Liam murmured, carefully moving Killian’s hand to rest on his stomach. “I need you, little brother. You’re all I have left.” 

Will watched as both Emma and Liam cried for a man lost to both of them. 

* * *

 

“He - We were in a car accident.” Emma sighed, looking out a raining hospital window. “It was my fault, I guess. Or Liam believes it was. He… He never liked me. He thought Killian deserved better.” She let out a choked laugh. “We were out celebrating, Killian had just gotten his dream job of restoring ships for museums or reenactments with this amazing company, and I…” Emma broke, tears spilling down her face. She smiled and wiped at her eyes as Will listened next to her. “I knew he wanted to propose. We were finally in a good place, I was working nights for the sheriff, we were even talking about,” she let out a sob, “We talked about having a baby. I wanted a family with him. I wanted to be his wife.”

She sobbed, and Will rubbed her back as she wrapped her arms around her knees. 

“We were celebrating, out with friends. On our way home, we were hit head on by one of my previous arrests for DUI. I’d ruined his life when I arrested him; his wife kicked him out and he was ready to die. I remember Killian and the smoke, all the smoke in our car. Killian pulled me out, and his head. God, his head. I could see bone, and he fell, we fell. I remember pavement, and his hand reaching for me, and lights. We were in the hospital and I reached for him, but they took him away. I died in the OR, but I waited for him, I waited, and then I was here. A Guardian named Regina tried to help me forget and move on, finish my unfinished business… How can you finish your business when it’s a person?” 

Will put an arm around her back, and she sobbed into his shoulder unabashedly. 

“I’ll wait with you, then. We’ll wait for them together, until both of us can move on. We’ll protect them.”

“Will, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Even if Belle chooses another, I’ll wait for her.”

Emma nodded, and for the first time in a long time, felt hope. 

“Hey Will?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you know about making tea?”

* * *

 

Elsa felt like she was going insane, which honestly could just be a default setting at this point. She’d been on her feet 14 hours now, accidentally dipped her braid in a vomit mess from a seizure page, and she’d been trying to care for a child that had transferred from oncology since last night. He’d been fussy, and his mother had gone to eat something. Elsa sat with him, playing with a stuffed reindeer. He’d spiked a fever around noon, and Elsa was compelled to stay with him, checking his IV or consoling his mother. 

She’d skipped lunch to do it, with no regrets, until Jackass Jones had paged her in his normal sour gloom. She sighed. She swore the man moved things around just to yell at her. She couldn’t handle him today on an empty stomach considering on a normal day she had to resist ripping his stupid English head off. God save the Queen? God save Liam ‘Whines about Tea’ Jones from her if she had the chance, he wasn't the only one with pain. 

A breeze went through the unit, gently tugging at her. It was still chilly outside, but the breeze carried spring. Vanilla, honey, something floral, afternotes of leather, rain, and cut grass. Elsa blinked. Insane didn’t even begin to cover this level of madness, the idea she had…

Nodding her head with determination, she signed out for a ten minute break and made her way to the cafeteria.    
  


* * *

 

“She’s doin’ it!” Will exclaimed, his excitement infectious as he glanced back at Emma. 

She’d changed slightly with his presence, instead of the dark clothing and primly braided hair she had chosen a low ponytail, flowy pants, and muted colors. She’d relaxed some, and both she and Will were grateful. 

“We’ll see, we can only provide suggestions to the living. And frankly,” She sighed, “I have never seen any member of the Jones clan display patience - they’re the stubbornest men I’ve ever met.”

Emma walked through the door to Killian’s room, where Liam paced like a wild animal. In many ways, she wished she could influence him, but his anger was always too much to break through. Today in particular they’d used it to their advantage by placing several pictures out of Emma. Emma had felt bad until he’d thrown a frame in the trash, the glass crunch paining her. 

She headed to her normal place by Killian’s side, stroking his arm.

“I’m sorry for what we did, Killian. I know you would probably approve, if not encourage teasing him… I just wish you were here to see this. I miss hearing your voice.” She glanced up to see Will enter, followed by Elsa opening the door with a tray in hand.

“About bloody time!” Liam yelled, throwing his hands up. Elsa went wide eyed, but quickly regained her composure. She gave an icy smile, putting the tray down and approached Liam, although he was purple faced with rage. 

“I am so sorry about the pictures. We are looking into who’s doing it, and have added a camera to the room that we can review, if you like. In the meantime, you mentioned no one here can make tea?”She pressed a cup into his hand as his face slowly paled, and his shoulders relaxed.

Will nodded at Emma, and together they raised their hands. 

Liam felt a cold chill run through his spine, the AC or a window blowing cool air that completely melted his rage. This nurse was trying, she was always trying and he - He took the small cup, still in shock. Looking into her blue eyes, he took a sip. 

“I watched a tutorial on YouTube, I wanted to make sure-”

“Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“You’re welcome. I know how stressful this is, how emotional it can be even after time has passed. I brought you some lunch.” She stepped away, pointing to the tray as she smoothed Killian’s sheets. 

Liam swallowed hard, anger returning. Emma winced by Killian’s side, preparing for the worst. They’d tried, but she was right: bullheaded rage was easier for him. 

“How would you know anything about how it feels? How helpless I am to help -”

Elsa turned to look at Liam, her smile softening. “My sister was unresponsive due to brain trauma. She and her boyfriend went skiing, there was a freak accident, an avalanche. She lost oxygen for minutes. Her boyfriend passed after a few days, but my Anna… Anna held on. She was all I had too; our parents were gone, and I was alone. I paid for the best treatment as long as she lived, my parents were wealthy so it wasn’t an issue. She held on for years.”

“Oh.” For the second time in 10 minutes, Liam visibly deflated. Emma decided she like this Elsa. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s why I became a nurse. I had to let my sister go, every infection she got left her more of a husk than before. She was in pain, almost no brain activity whatsoever. Hard choices and saving people, it’s what I’m best at, I think.” Elsa’s smile faded, and she looked pensive for a minute expecting rage as she stared at Killian’s still form.

Instead, Liam sat down, and put his head in his hands, mumbling. Elsa turned to look at him, and kneeled to his level, looking up at his covered face.    
  
“I used to be a real ice queen, I was so focused on society, and parties, making sure our family business was secure. I sat here, just like you are, but nobody came to listen to me and my thoughts. If you want that chance, I promise I won’t tell anyone that you’re not a jackass.”

Liam snorted, but the noise died in his throat as he choked out a sob. Elsa reached to pull one of his hands away, watching him cry for a moment before hugging him lightly. Emma watched in awe as the man broke in her arms, letting grief and frustration pour out that had been bottled for 2 years. Elsa soothed him as he confessed his fears, his hope that Killian would wake up, his hatred for Emma even though he knew she wasn’t at fault. How Killian and him had fought about her, about his life, leaving the Navy, making the decision to live in a bungalow by the sea instead of in the city, about how tight money would be for them. 

“Then, the blasted fucking idiot asked for Mum’s ring. Said he wanted to give it to her, to Emma, because she was his soulmate. She made him better, even if I didn’t see it or some foolishness. She made him happier than he’d ever been.” He chuckled darkly, then sighed. Elsa and him sat side by side at Killian’s bedside where she held his hand simply listening to his words. Tears began pouring down his face. 

“I’m an idiot. An absolute bloody wanker of a fool. I told him no, and asked how she could make him happier than me, or Mum, or Dad when we were all together. How she could eclipse everything? Our relationship had always been strained since he left the Navy, but...He just looked at me with pity. Fucking pity! Walked away from his own brother saying, ‘I hope you find this happiness someday’. And then he was gone. Didn’t hear from him for months until I got a call from David, Emma’s brother, saying there had been an accident.” He looked up at the panels of lights in the ceiling, watching them flicker. “Emma was gone by the time I got there, David and his wife in hysterics as people arrived for her. They had family to help them grieve. Killian… After surgery they said he had some brain activity. I told them no visitors but me. I didn’t want to... I didn’t want to feel anything. I needed to be strong for when he woke up. He hasn’t woken up.”

There was silence in the room, besides the whir and beep of the machines. Emma stood, eyes misty, and gently hugged Liam. He closed his eyes and smiled. Will watched from the corner, pretending that he had allergies as Emma moved towards him, stepping away from the two. 

Liam turned and looked at Elsa, the blue on blue gaze intense. He could swear he smelled vanilla.

“Thank you.”

“It was nothing, Mr. Jones. It’s my job-”

“I’d like to take you out to dinner.” His brain registered what he said after it came out of his mouth, and he stammered, “If, uh, If that’s alright, I mean, I -”

“I get off in an hour. Give me some time to change, and wash the vomit out of my hair, pick something…”

“Italian?”

“Yes! That sounds good. And a bar please. I want a nice glass of shiraz. And you could do with a glass of bourbon I think, or at least something stronger than tea.” She stood, brushing off her scrubs an extended a hand for him to stand. He took it, standing tall and smiling with relief.

* * *

 

  
Married in a quiet ceremony as her stomach swelled, Belle Lafrance became Mrs. Gold with elation. The days alone felt longer when her husband was gone, but she kept busy reading books on how to knit, picking a room for their child, and devouring anything she could. She rarely left the house, Facilier making house calls most of the time. When it finally came time to learn the child’s sex, Belle reluctantly went alone to Facilier’s office, watching the grainy image closely. She’d ordered a book on radiology and ultrasound, aware of what she was looking for. It was past the time at 28 weeks that they normally would do this procedure, the scheduling tricky as she desperately had wanted her husband there.    
  
“It’s a boy!” Facilier and her exclaimed together, laughing. 

  
Belle was euphoric, her smile when she came home ear to ear. She hadn’t gone shopping like she planned, heading straight home instead. As she headed upstairs, she could hear Rem’s voice from the West Wing, echoing out as plastic tarping fluttered in a breeze. His words were muffled, but the anger in his voice was clear as he yelled. Belle dropped her bag, and hurried through the tarping, ignoring his warning.    
  
The first thing she noticed was there was no equipment anywhere, only closed doors as far as she could see. Her husband’s voice echoed out of the crack of a door near the end, thudding and moans joining the sound of his yells. 

  
“You thought you could steal from me?” another thud, and a whimper. “I run the trade in this city, and don’t you forget it.”   
  
Peeking into the room, she saw her husband savagely cracking a cane against a man’s crumpled form, his face bloody. Stains covered the floor on one side, rusty brown trails that lead to a drain pipe. Belle backed away, silently.    
  
She heard voices coming, and tried a few of the other doors, finally finding an unlocked room. The voices went past, and she vaguely heard the sounds of something about shipments. Turning around, sunlight streamed through the same style windows that were in her bedroom, a completely disconcerting scene against the stacks of neatly wrapped white powder that stood before her. 

Peeking out to make sure no one saw her, she ran as fast as possible back to her room, and cried.

Remington Gold was a dangerous man. She’d married someone who was a monster, a beast, destroying lives without a care. Betrayal and hate mixed in her chest, mixing with the steady thought that kept her grounded.    
  
_ He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.  _   
  
Gideon was born a healthy baby boy while Gold was away, nurses sitting with Belle while she delivered alone in the bed she shared with her husband when he deigned to come home. He’d been on edge, muttering something about a deal falling through and products getting destroyed. She didn’t want to think about if the products were from his company or his side venture.    
  
Holding her child in her arms and staring into his dark eyes as he made tiny keening noises, her love fell completely into his swaddled lap. Nothing else mattered but keeping her son safe.   
  
Gold was home less and less, and Belle found herself thankful for it. He hated the cries of their child, his delighted shrieks as he played on a floor mat or his tendency to wail in the middle of the night. Belle found herself functionally a single parent, caring for their child alone. Some nights as she held Gideon in a rocking chair, feeding him from her breast, she’d stare out at the cage that her husband had shown her when they dated.    
  
She felt caged too.

* * *

 

Everyday it had come back clearer.

_ The piece was done, a favor from Hare’s Jewelry, the first client he had for his locksmith service after his time in jail who had become a fast friend. He’d picked up the locket and called to get a taxi, sending a text to Belle and not paying attention. The thud of metal that cracked his skull sent his phone flying, his instincts screaming to run while protecting his clutched treasure in its small box.  _

_ He made it a few steps before another thud cracked him the ribs, and he was dragged into a back alley. He didn’t recognize the men - they weren’t Jimmy’s guys or The Serpents, no gang insignia, scarves, or tattoos. Will was thrown into the trunk of a car, straining to hear voices on the other side of the seats.  _

_ “Kill him. Bury him somewhere. Get close to her, get into her life. You’re the only option since she won’t let me near, I’ll do the rest.” Fucking Gold. Will would recognize his patronizing voice anywhere.  _

_ “Yes, Papa.” said a muffled and unknown voice. The car lurched on for what felt like days.  _ __   
__   
_ Will was ripped from the trunk, thrown to the ground unceremoniously as he looked up into Gold’s silhouette. The highbeams of the car made him look like some scaled demon, the first whack of hs cane taking his vision.  _ __   
_   
_ __ Blows rained down, his body bound and thrown from a height onto packed earth. He tasted pennies and dirt, a shovel pouring more on him as he choked, swallowed into the ground while clutching her gift, its silver light never to be seen by its intended.  

_ Belle’s voice in his ear when he came home bloody after a gang fight.  _ __   
__   
__ “Will, you have to stop fighting these battles. You’ll lose.”    
  


* * *

 

Emma had new recruits by the time spring made its appearance, new frustrations and processing starting all over. She still had points off for ‘bedside management’, but had relaxed enough to not pawn off a third of her cases on another Guardian. 

Will had begun training to become a Guardian and was surprisingly good at it. Emma liked to prod him in the ribs and say it was because he had a good example, much to his annoyance. Will had also convinced 3 other Guardians to come to a bi-weekly card night at Finny’s. Regina, Hopper, and Ruby had all been around longer than Emma, each staying for particular reasons: Regina was waiting for a child, Ruby waited for her grandmother, and Hopper… 

“I just like helping people. Honestly, I think this place is more paradise than anything that waits.” He sipped a cider gingerly. 

Regina rolled her eyes.    
  
Emma found herself having fun, much to her surprise; Regina’s barbs hid a deep loyalty, Ruby was an ecstatic joy, Hopper was calm but occasionally said something so funny and candid Emma almost snorted beer out her nose, and Will wrapped them together with his stories and gregarious presence.  Emma felt at home while they shared their pain of watching people solve their unresolved issues. Some were too much for one to bear, as Regina talked about a mother laying by her daughter’s bedside. Regina took many cases dealing with parents missing their children in the Realm of the Living,

“She’s going to be a Haunt if she keeps going back. I keep warning her, ‘wait here’, but,” she gave a pointed look towards Emma, “No one seems to listen to me.”

Emma sighed. “I actually… Well. I haven’t been there in a week or so,” she whispered. Only Regina and Will caught it, Ruby and Hopper busy talking about some conservationist who died, his unfinished business making sure the wolf pack he tagged was okay. 

Will caught her eye, and they nodded to each other. There was an understanding between them: If either got too comfortable in the mortal world, risking becoming trapped there, the other would intervene. 

So far, the last couple months had been quiet: Killian’s condition remained unchanged, Belle was still mourning but enjoying her job at the library, and Limbo remained as muted as ever. The development they were most interested in however, was Liam and Elsa. Where once Liam visited twice a week, now he was there almost everyday, occasionally bringing flowers, snacks, or even candy for the nurse’s station. Despite hospital regulations forbidding relationships between nurses and family member of patients, he and Elsa still interacted, albeit discreetly; even if the blush on her face and across his ears was enough to alert something was going on. 

On one beautiful spring day, Emma sat next to Killian, stroking his hair as Elsa checked his vitals. 

“Your hair is starting to get long again.” Emma whispered, “It makes you look like… Well. You.” 

Elsa gave a yelp, and Emma startled, trying to hide the breeze she made. Elsa wasn’t going to notice, she and Liam were locked in embrace, one of his hands in her hair and the other creeping very low. Emma returned to sitting, burying her face in Killian’s sheets. 

She heard a light smack of skin, and a husky chuckle before Elsa spoke, “You can’t keep doing that, we could get caught and -”

“You were just giving emotional support to a grief stricken family member. Even though I supported you last night when we -”

“Liam!” Elsa playfully hit his chest again, blushing furiously. “Just, tone it down a bit? Everyone in the unit keeps asking about my ‘curling iron burn’ to the point I put a bandaid on it.” She lifted her collar slightly and he blushed. “And it’s not exactly a secret that the guy bringing gifts and coming in to visit more is making eyes at me. My boss  _ cannot _ find out; he transferred from Summer Isles hospital, and he’s gross. He thinks we’re all his, having a boyfriend here would make him -”

“I’m your boyfriend, then?” Liam’s eyes twinkled slightly, and Emma felt her heart ache for Killian, the same smile lines shared with his brother evident as Liam looked down at Elsa, still holding her. 

“Would you, um. Well. Yeah, I mean I’d like that if you were OK with it.” Elsa played with her braid nervously in between his arms. “I just. I have had… This is a lot. I’ve been alone for such a long time, and I got this idea to bring you tea, just because…” She took a deep breath and looked up at him, eyes clear. “I saw you were lonely too, and I saw myself, I just knew. I don’t know how to explain, but it was like, when you’re outside in the cold and you’re bundled up, and you come inside some place warm, you take all of it off, down to your boots and gloves, and you’re you again - the minute I told you everything about Anna, about Kristoff, it was like taking those last pieces off and stepping into home.”

There was silence, and Elsa fidgeted, Liam’s arms falling to his sides. 

“Liam…?” she whispered, looking up at him. “I’m sorry, if it was too much, I just remember you said you wanted honesty, you liked bluntness and - “

Liam cupped her face gently and kissed her lovingly, and Emma looked away, looking at the door, trying not to eavesdrop on their moment. 

“I’d love to date you. As in, dinner or breakfast since you like French toast so much, and movies, and you over at my apartment so I can teach you to cook, whatever you want.”

Emma heard the words that weren’t there, Liam and Killian so similar without even knowing it. 

Elsa unknowingly held Liam’s broken heart, unfreezing the shell that lay over it. Emma didn’t have to look to see the change in his face or the way his eyes would now gleam looking at hers, or the ridiculous crooked smile paired with cocking his head or scratching behind his ear when she made his heart skip.

Emma stood, and walked to the hallway, the pain in her chest too much. 

When she passed through the door, she saw looking through the glass, the bright glow of a woman peeking through the glass side window, holding hands with a tall, broad shouldered, blonde man. She looked at Emma with bright eyes, her red braids swinging as she turned her head with a grin identical to Elsa’s. Emma knew without question who they were. 

“You did good, Emma. You have quite the fan club, with all the people you’ve helped. We can’t wait to see you someday.” She said, her voice like bells. She turned, letting the blonde man lead her away into brightness, disappearing with a sparkle.

Emma nodded, watching them go.   
  
“Thanks, Anna.” She whispered to no one.

* * *

 

Gideon grew like a weed, years passing as Belle held on to her sanity. He was old enough to talk, at four, to understand that his father was a phantom in his world. He was old enough to ask about her bruises, or why she seemed so tense when ‘Papa’ was home. He knew better than to disturb the monster in his study, or ever play by the west side of the house.    
  
Belle and he instead played in the garden when it was warm, or the solarium when it wasn’t. Very rarely they dressed in the finery that was picked for them, going in a separate car to join Remington at an event. They were beautiful props, her son with sharp features, keen brown eyes, and a shock of light brown hair. The love of her life.    
  
After an event that seemed to last for hours, they drove home in silence.    
  
“Mama, was I bad? Papa was angry.” Gideon whispered, starting to cry.   
  
“Hush, my sweet love. You were anything but bad. Even I was bored, and I was happy to take you out of there so we could get some exercise. It’s hard to sit that long with nothing to do.” Belle stroked his hair, pulling him close.    
  
He fell asleep against her, the warm press of her, the lateness of the hour, and smell of roses lulling him into a deep doze. He woke up to yelling, not in his room but laid on the couch instead, a blanket over him. Papa and Mama were yelling at each other in the study even though it was past bedtime. The clock said 2 am, and he knew Mama needed to sleep; she had yawned all the way home.   
  
Gideon rubbed his eyes, and stood, walking to the study. He had only been inside of it a few times, the door moving easily. His parents didn’t even notice him, his stocking feet quiet against the ruckus. He sat behind a potted plant in the dim room, scared of his Papa’s snarled voice.   
  
“He’s going. My son went as a child, and I went before that. After his behavior tonight I should see him enrolled early!”

“Please, no. He’s a child, he deserves to be a child, Remington I am begging you -”   
  
“What right do you have to beg? I have given you everything! You have wanted for nothing, anything you asked for was given.”   
  
“I wanted you to love me. I wanted you to hold to your promise and be better. Instead, you slept with Zelena, and -”    
  
A crack rang out, Gideon curled himself into a ball. Mama cried, his Papa a real monster as Gideon had guessed. In the shadows he could see his sweaty face shining like scales, his fingers like claws.    
  
“Guess what, Dearie? This is love. This is how love works. It’s not some romance novel, it’s a painful and heart wrenching experience. You’re out of luck, it doesn’t get better.”   
  
“You’re wrong,” Mama whispered.    
  
“He’s going to the prep school. I have his passport ready for Germany, and he leaves in the fall. If you try to stop it, you’ll be sorry.” His Papa stormed out, and his Mama followed.    
  
Gideon sat crying in the dark room, lit only by a few lamps that gave little light. He’d never leave Mama. Never. He’d run away instead! Papa kept candy in the drawers of his desk, he remembered that from the few times he’d been in here. He’d yelled too loud and Papa had given him a candy to suck on.    
  
Going through the drawers of his desk, Gideon pulled out papers until he found a few rounded bags of pixie dust. Putting two in his pocket to pack in his bag, he opened one to eat right away, just to spite his Papa. Letting it pour into his mouth, he gagged at the taste of it, spitting out what he could.    
  


They called a time of death after an hour, her screaming filling the hospital, police pulling her and her suddenly shocked husband away for questioning. 

It turned out, Gold Pharmaceuticals reached far over the city in many more places than she knew. People were paid off, records erased, information redacted or changed to suit a narrative. To the outside world, Gideon choked on a piece of a toy, asphyxiating in his sleep. To Belle, it didn’t matter, her child was gone. The funeral was supposedly a formal and somber affair, but she had refused to go. Locking herself in his room, she laid in his bed crying until she couldn’t breathe. Despite her husband’s pleas, she refused to give him any forgiveness. He was past any sort of redeeming in her eyes.    
  
After months of waiting for the right moment, Belle quietly slipped into the night with her belongings, every picture of Gideon in the house, and a few of his small shirts and stuffed toys. In her stead she left divorce papers under the door of his study.

* * *

 

Summer came with a huge workload for Emma, as she helped people every day head to the Beyond. Between the heat, more people driving, more recreational activities, and other factors, death boomed in the summer months. Person after person became a blur, her mind elsewhere. Will had officially become a Resident of Limbo and taken a Guardianship, moving from the Blox to the Resident area. Emma was unsurprised when he ended up being her neighbor. 

“Well. This makes things interesting.” He had grinned cheekily at her. She groaned, throwing her hands up, and stalked inside her cottage. In the mornings though, as they walked to Guardian Center, she begrudgingly admitted to herself that having her best friend as a neighbor wasn’t all that bad. On their days off, she walked along the edge of the endless expanse with him and they examined the strange things that washed up, lost through time and space. 

“There’s so many socks.” Will mumbled, poking a red and yellow striped monstrosity in the sand, as the nothingness lapped at their feet. “Oi, Emma. Has anyone tried to swim or sail this?”   
  
“Yes. It drops you back at the other side, but you’re not exactly corporeal anymore if you swim in it, at least for a few weeks. You have like, this weird misty outline, and you can’t hold things. It sucks, which is why no one really does it.” She paused, looking out across the blank white area. “Killian would like you, Will. You’d hit it off right away.” 

Will blinked, surprised by the statement. “Belle would like you too.” 

It clicked then, what a high compliment they had given each other, and as Emma started to cry, he hugged her close.    
  
“I know this isn’t forever, but how do I cope with wanting him to be here? What are we doing -”

“Emma, you are allowed to be selfish, and ‘ave selfish thoughts - they don’t change reality. You’d be just as happy if he woke up and lived a full life. I know you would, because I feel the exact same way with Belle. It’s alright.”

“He’d have wanted me to move on, and have told me I’m hopeless, completely, maddeningly stubborn.”

“Well,” he pulled away and looking at her, smirk on his face. “Can’t fault a man for being honest, can we?”

She laughed through tears, wiping her eyes as they continued their walk. 

* * *

 

In the mortal world, as the summer drew on and temperatures rose, Liam and Elsa’s relationship heating up was becoming Emma and Will’s new favorite entertainment. Elsa was trying to hide from her boss that she and Liam were an item, as the entire staff helped them with great difficulty - subtlety was not Liam’s strong suit. Luckily, Liam had charmed his way into not only being forgiven by the nurses, but becoming their pet project.   
  
“Elsa’s favorite flowers are forget-me-nots and sunflowers,” a nurse named Ariel had whispered to him. “Her favorite colors are baby blue, silver, green and purple. Oh. And she loves gingerbread.”

Another nurse, Aurora he thought her name was, handed him a slip of paper with an address. A quick google search brought up the location: one Oaken’s Bed & Breakfast, Trading Post, and Sauna. Reading the reviews he found the most talked about highlight - fresh baked gingerbread and cocoa every night. Emma had watched him curiously, his head lowered over the phone and brow scrunched in deliberation. Will came back from hovering over the device, shaking his head and grinning.    
  
“He’s trying to decide if ‘e should book them a getaway.” Looking at Emma’s surprised face, he laughed. ”I’ll bet you a beer ‘e goes through with it.”

“You’re on.”

Elsa was their favorite to watch though, always surprised by Liam’s kindness and genuinely shocked every time he called her beautiful. 

“Anna was the pretty one. I… I was shy. I still am shy. Just not around you, because you annoyed me so much.” She smirked at Liam, and he gently tugged her braid, then tickled her nose with the end of it while she giggled.

“You’re beautiful. And I insist on annoying you, because you kept moving those pictures out -”

“I did nothing of the sort. Although, you should move them out, they’re lovely. You can tell he really loved her.” She blinked looking back at him. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ve overstepped -”

“No.” He stood, looking ahead. “You’re right.” He walked to the large cabinet and opened the drawer, taking out several frames. Looking at them for a long time and selecting others, he finally began placing them around Killian’s bedside tables. 

Elsa came to stand beside him, intertwining her fingers with his. He stared at the photo, Killian and Emma on the deck of  the boat he was helping restore, caught mid laugh and both wearing eye patches. 

“Hey, Elsa?” He whispered.

“Hm?” She gazed up at him, concern passing over her features. 

“Do you think, well... Do you think we could ever be like them?” 

Emma and Will watched quietly, and Emma squeezed Killian’s hand, waiting for her answer. 

“Oh, Liam.” she gently touched his face, bringing his gaze to hers. “I believe we will be, if we already aren’t. You make me so happy.” She kissed him chastely, and walked towards the door. “I have to go do rounds, I’ll see you tonight for the movie,” she waved, and Liam waved back weakly. 

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he booked a suite for one of the weekends he knew Elsa & he had off. 

* * *

 

Emma dreaded Fall. Fall meant another year would have come and gone without her other half, without his laugh or his smile. This year felt harder, as she let summer drag its long days out lazily. She blamed Will a bit for the excess pain, but mostly herself; admitting how much she missed him to someone made it harder to be away. It didn’t help that as she stayed by his side, she was watching Liam fall in love while waiting for her own love to wake up. 

She and Will visited about once a week, a safe amount of time while running other visits if they stayed briefly. They were supposed to be sponsoring each other, making sure one of them didn’t end up stuck. Will had been good, his heart healing as he resigned himself to watching Belle live, her joy his own, listening to her sing or watching her write in her diary about how she always felt him near. He still didn’t like Gaston, saying something was off about the guy. He also disliked a neighbor of hers, some shaggy haired man that seemed to have an almost stalker like crush. Belle of course was oblivious, finding his behavior endearing. 

Even in the chaos Will followed the rules, and for that, Emma was proud.

Emma, however, was not following the rules. 

Liam and Elsa dating had left Killian with a nurse that was wholly incompetent and actually downright dangerously lazy. Marissa Tremaine was older, her experience making her haughty as she rushed around in constant anger. Emma had watched her blow Killian’s veins when checking his IV, she’d left his catheter bag unchecked, and once Emma was horrified to find a feeding tube leaking on the floor. Keeping Killian company and making sure any other night nurse could check on him with a bit of her influence became an almost nightly task. 

She didn’t notice it happening at first, but then again, very few did. She began a routine, a set of movements like clockwork every night she visited, sneaking carefully out with a wave of her hand. Will didn’t need to worry about her; she was being careful, and she didn’t want to risk him losing time with Belle. Once in the room, she’d straighten Killian’s bed sheets, kissing him on the forehead as she sat by his side, stroking his face and arm in the quiet. Watching the night nurse, she tried to keep Tremaine away as long as she could. 

After morning's light started to creep in, she’d walk to look at the pictures Liam had put up, gently tracing the lines of Killian’s face, committing them to her memory and trying to remember his touch. Lately even in her dreams he was fading, his voice warped and wrong like her memories were distorting. The more she tried to remember, the more she felt she was forgetting. 

Finally she’d walk around the nurses station, then return to sit with him until she Tremaine shift had ended, before returning home. 

Except, the night she didn’t.

When Will heard she’d been MIA for her morning appointments, something in the pit of his stomach flipped. He raced back to her home, the cottage empty and the bed cold, his fears being realized. No. No she couldn’t have, she wouldn’t -

He’d poofed himself, albeit sloppily, to the hospital room where Killian lay, and his knees gave out. 

Emma’s misty form sat next to his bed, holding his hand as her body shimmered.    
  
“Emma, no, what did you do!” Will yelled, scrambling off the floor towards her. She didn’t acknowledge him, her form blinking in and out as it appeared in a shimmer in front of its next task, stuck in an endless clockwork loop. 

Will felt sick. He desperately tried to follow her, his hands slipping through cold air as he tried to grab her when she didn’t respond to his pleas. He poofed back to Limbo and interrupted Regina’s session, who in turn interrupted Hopper and Ruby’s. 

With an elegant wave they were back in the hospital and Emma sat before them once again. 

After a short time of watching her cycle, Regina shook her head, her fists clenched.   
  
“There’s nothing we can do, she's too far gone. If she hadn't lost her form-”

“There has to be something, anything!” Will shouted, looking at each of their faces. Hopper looked away, grabbing his shoulder, while Ruby sobbed openly and Regina clenched and unclenched her hands. “Oi! There  _ HAS _ to be something,  _ anything _ -”

“Will!” Regina snapped. “There’s not, OK?” When his eyes began to fill with tears, Regina took a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry,” she said patting his shoulder, gently.   
  
After a moment, Will walked over to Emma’s shimmering form, her color gone and pose unchanging. “I’m so sorry Emma. Goodbye... We love you.”

 

Then they were gone.

* * *

 

Liam was in love. Plain and simple, he had realized it before but had stubbornly fought it, scared of what it meant. Here though, as a cool end of August blew in to usher the start of Fall, he was able to forget what was coming in October. Here, he had mountains, a hot tub, and most importantly, Elsa. Every part of her made him better, her laugh made his stomach jump to his throat in the most peculiar manner, and her touch - her body was a revelation, and he was the philosopher who could muse on it for hours. She had given him her heart without saying it and he held it like the most precious jewel. 

As she lazily looked over the edge of the hot tub, he joined her, and let her naked back press against his. In only one night, he’d made sure she’d known how beautiful she was, worshipping her as she deserved, and he planned to do it again the next night and the last morning of their stay. 

They looked out at the woods and the stars above, and when his phone rang, he was seeing stars of his own as she rubbed up against him sinfully. Biting her neck, he pulled away and whispered in her ear, “Hold that thought, love.”

Grabbing a towel and heading inside, he picked up his phone and glanced at the screen. His heart stopped.

  
“Liam Jones, what is-”

“Mr. Jones, this is Nurse Ariel Maidon. Your brother, the night nurse stapled his cath bag shut and he’s got blood poisoning, he’s going into septic shock. We need you back here, we don’t know if he’s going to last, he’s beginning organ failure,” her voice was sad, full of fear, and he knew it far too well from hearing Elsa at the hospital.

As if in a nightmare, Elsa’s pager began to beep. His breath wouldn’t come, and his chest hurt. “I’ll be right there. It’s an hour drive back to the city,” he wheezed out.

“Hurry, Mr. Jones,” Ariel pleaded. He hung up the line, as Elsa walked in, looking at her pager confusedly. Liam began throwing on his clothes, unable to form words yet, his brain screeching at him over and over to  _ get to the hospital _ . Elsa picked up the pager, and as soon as she saw the read out, began throwing on her clothes as well, eyes pricking with tears. As Liam threw his shoes on, she grabbed a pair of flats and her bag, slipping them on as they ran out of the room and to Liam’s car.    
  
Liam had never driven so fast in his life, screeching into the parking lot, and parking in the middle of the drive. He ran through the doors and Elsa quickly parked in a handicap spot, turning off the car and running inside as well. As they approached the ward, they could hear Dr. Whale yelling, shouting at someone to grab a BVM. Elsa started crying harder, Liam pushing through the doors to get to his brother, nurses holding him back as he tried to get closer.    
  
“Killian!” he shouted, and he watched as his brother’s chest rose only with help, machines screeching and beeping, Dr. Whale with sweat on his brow as he called a code blue and a cart was wheeled in. Liam was pushed out of the room where Elsa was wringing her hands.    
  
“Liam I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry -”

“What are the chances of him surviving this?” he growled, his hands balled into fists.   
  
“Liam, I -”   
  
“Did you know that the night nurse was capable of this? Did you know?” He spoke through gritted teeth.    
  
“She’d made mistakes in the past but I never thought -”

“I was  _ gone _ . I should have been here, I should have been stronger for him, I should have never let you distract me. You let my brother  _ die _ , you let me leave him here with that witch who killed him! All because you preyed on my loneliness, you selfish -”

“Liam, please, he still has a chance. You need to calm down,” Elsa reached for him, and he pushed her hand away, face pulled back in disgust. “Liam, don’t, please don’t. Don’t push me away, I love you.”

“Get away from me. I don't want you here, Elsa,” he hissed. 

She turned away sobbing, running from the ward. She was down the hall when she heard his howl of anguish, and knew that as much as he’d broken her heart, his own was broken to the point it may be irreparable.


	2. ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a third chapter for this piece, I'm tying up loose ends and finishing it as I can.

Killian was vaguely aware that something was very amiss, if not downright wrong.

His last clear memories were celebrating his new position, one he’d painstakingly worked for years to achieve, his friends around him and Emma by his side. He had refused to drink at his own party, much to his friends’ consternation, but he wanted to remember everything about this night, every detail. Hopefully it was the last night Emma Swan would go without knowing she was to be Emma Swan-Jones in his ideal future. That is, if she’d accept, which with the way she had rested her head on his shoulder he was pretty sure wasn’t an issue.

“Things are good,” she’d whispered, leaning across the passenger side of their car to kiss him.

“Things are only going to get better.” He grinned and she laughed, poking him under the armpit, his body jerking. “Oi, that’s enough of that, now -”

“Tall orders, ‘only better’. Are you sure you can live up to that promise?” Her eyes had gotten darker, and he felt his mouth go dry.

“I am up for the challenge.”

“Then hurry home, sally forth, and all that - I have a present for you that you couldn’t unwrap here.” Her voice had gone husky and Killian felt for sure his pants were suddenly too tight.

They were driving home when Emma had screamed, he thought it was prank at first, but the lights were bright and they were right in their windshield as pain enveloped him. The roof of their car buckled as they rolled, he felt the crack against his skull and for a moment things went black. He could still hear, sounds of the crunch of metal and her strangled cry, and then his head throbbed, bringing back sight; gazing out, lights flashed into the dim. The back of his skull felt so wet and warm, and the top of his head was dripping as he tried to inventory his surroundings. They'd come to a stop at an angle and he'd noticed hazy smoke filling the car, Emma slumped forward with glass across her face. He dizzily noted how pretty it was in the light. Confused revulsion came next.

He unbuckled himself, surprised that the device still worked, and marveling at how squishy the air bag was, before trying to focus as spots spun in front of him. His brain felt wrong and infantile as he narrowed his thoughts, to come fighting the strange feeling of his body wanting to simply stop, exhaustion creeping up on him. Why couldn't he sleep?

 _Emma. Get Emma out._ One of his arms was useless, a bloody mess he couldn’t get to follow commands. With his good arm, he undid her belt and grabbed under her armpits as well as he could, her head lolling as he dragged her over his seat. She was dragging something under her knee. He gathered her body close, and with sudden clarity understood as he touched her shattered kneecap - Her leg that had been bent in the passenger’s seat was crushed completely. Even through his stunted brain he knew this was bad.

Stumbling back, everything spinning, they fell to the cold asphalt. He saw Emma’s eyes open as what he realized was his scalp flopped over, his hand reaching up to touch wet bone. She reached for him as his vision burned away to darkness, his hand meeting hers the last touch he felt.

* * *

 

When Killian came to, he was alone in a hospital room sitting in a chair, noise filling the empty space. Part of his brain registered that this was eerily strange, unable to rationalize while the other soothed, calming him. This was normal. Things will make sense, everything will be fine.

_Emma._

He stood, bare feet cold on the tiled floor. Beeps, whirrs, whispered voices and footsteps swirled around him although he was alone. If he focused, he could make out misty forms of people, like a flickering projector. Nurses roamed the halls, he could see their brightly colored scrubs now, the forms becoming clearer. Rubbing his eyes, he saw another chair next to the hospital bed where Liam sat, head in his hands.

He heard Liam’s sobs and apologies, how he should have given him the ring for Emma.

_Bloody well right you should have, you great dolt._

Liam didn’t hear, and he only came back angrier. He talked about working extra hours, about how this was Emma’s fault, about incompetent staff and bad tea. Killian began to pace, the strange peace he had once felt fading. What was Emma’s fault? Certainly not this, whatever this was. Emma would never.

David’s voice. Asking if Liam was coming to the funeral, Liam telling him to get out. Killian raged in unheard fury, he was going to punch that bloody git in the face for talking to his brother-in-law like that - er. His almost brother-in-law. David had left and Killian caught a glimpse of him, his hair unkempt and eyes red rimmed. Who had died? David only had very little family, and Emma… He’d know if Emma was hurt. He felt a pang of uncertainty, the strangeness of his situation breaking through. Liam flickered in and out, standing and pacing, cursing under his breath.

“Why did you choose her? Why did you let her do this to you brother?” Liam slammed his fist into a cabinet, flickering out as his cries echoed in the room.

_What is happening to me? Where am I?_

Emma finally came to see him after he felt like he’d been there for months, wandering through the empty hospital when his room was quiet. He’d thought he may have heard her voice before, but like tuning for a frequency on a radio, he could never make out her words. He snapped back to his room the minute her words were in his ears. He couldn’t see her as well as his brother, falling to his knees in front of her. She laid across the hospital bed, unaware of his presence.

“Hi, babe.”

_Emma, where have you been? Gods above, I’ve been worried sick about you, you’ve had me-_

He could hear her voice hitch, and the small sniff of her nose.

_Why are you about to cry, love?_

“I don’t know if you can hear me -”

_Of course I can, sweet, I’m right here, it’s alright —_

“I just… I’m so scared and I miss you so much. I keep having dreams about the accident now that I can remember, I can remember you pulling me out. I wish you would wa-”

Her voice fizzled out as her shimmering form snuffed out like a candle. Killian desperately tried looking for her, looking for anywhere her voice would ring louder, or to find her strange smoky silhouette. He had no such luck. The strangeness of his new realm was now overwhelming, his inability to speak to anyone or get acknowledged maddening. A woman named Elsa whispered secrets about women he’d never met, and another woman named Ariel hummed softly filling the room in soothing music. He liked them. Someone named Tremaine, and another, Ursula, he didn’t like. He hadn’t felt anything physically but a numbness that reminded him of when his feet fell asleep; when those two flickered into being he felt pain. Killian realized finally that he was somehow outside of his body and something was preventing him from understanding this situation.

Emma came again. He could see her better, his clarity of people and things much clearer as time had passed. Instead of a smoky haze, she was a faded photo negative, a washed out sepia. When he tried to touch her there was no resistance as if she was air. “I’m supposed to let you go. That’s what Regina says, that I should ‘move on,”

_Well, tell ‘Regina’ to bugger right on off then, love._

“And I know that’s what you’d want, you wouldn’t want me to wait for you,” _Whoa now, wait a minute, of course I want you to wait for me, I just need to get ! Move on? Emma, what the bloody hell are you on about woman, are you mad?_

“The thing is, I can’t, Killian. Just…” her voice broke and she sobbed, he found himself longing to hold her. “I love you so much. Please, don’t hate me for wanting you.”

_I could never hate you Emma, please, don’t cry. It’s alright, I could never tire of you wanting me._

It became a cycle, Liam, Elsa, Ariel and Tremaine with Emma popping up here and there.

Killian began to understand, even if he didn’t want to believe.

“That brother of yours is a real asshat,” Elsa hissed, wearing blue and fiddling with an IV bag. Killian read a magazine left open, enjoying any stimulation he could find. “I hope you can’t hear the bastard.”

_You don’t even know. He’s an insufferable stubborn git on his best days._

“If I could move you to another hospital I would. Best in the country, bollocks. Can’t even make a proper cup of tea.” Liam thumbed through a book, sipping out of a styrofoam cup. Killian wished for a moment he could enjoy any cup of anything. He’d started to feel thirst, a strange heat and chill that came without warning, and pain in his abdomen.

_Liam, I wish I could move that giant head of yours out of your ass._

“I miss hearing your voice, Killian.” Liam let out a small laugh, rubbing his eyes. “You’d be telling me where to shove it right now.” His voice wavered, eyes becoming watery. “I don’t know how to be without you. You were my balance, my levity. Even during this feud... I’m so sorry, I just wanted you to make the right choices.”

_I miss you too Liam. I missed you when you were convinced my happiness was too risky. I just wanted you to be proud of me._

“I wish I could tell you how proud I am of you. I went by your home, I saw your designs and the proposal for the restoration of that frigate. It was… I’m so sorry I ever doubted you.” Liam cried openly, and Killian felt the walls of his reality crumbling slowly. He was pulled, a strong yank of some force he could not fight that sent him spiraling into darkness. A shrill beeping alarm sounded, Liam yelling as footsteps flooded in, a fire filling him with agony. There was a light, and he reached for it, begging for help as he was pulled further and further away.

He woke again to Emma’s gentle cries, the darkness dissipated. He sat in the bed, confused.

“You almost died, and I… I was happy for a moment. I’m so sorry, I just wanted…” Her sobbing was uncontrolled, her shoulders shaking. “I am so selfish, Killian, please wake up. Meet someone else, live your life, have children, _please_.”

_Emma… You wanted me to…?_

Killian’s reality crumbled into dust. He had almost died? A force compelled him to look behind him.

Turning to look at the bed, he saw himself, or what was left of himself. Tubes ran through his mouth, his hair was shaved to the scalp, as artificially steady breaths were pumped into his system. His frame was smaller, chest almost concave and bandaged.

_Emma, you’re…?_

“I just want to see you happy. I don’t want this for you, I want you to live, to open your eyes.”

_You’re alive, you’re alive, Emma, you’re alive and we’ll go back home, we’ll go back and everything will be -_

“I wish I hadn’t died. I wish you and I had lived the life we deserved.”

_No. No, Emma, how can you be - What are you?_

“I’ve decided to wait, regardless of everything. I’m not giving up on you. You’re a survivor.” He watched her stroke his body’s face, slender fingers he tried to hold without success. “I’m going to become a Guardian. I’ve already started training, and it will give me more time to visit you. I love you, more than anything.”

She disappeared where he could not follow, leaving him alone in limbo.

Killian began to walk, aimlessly exploring while lost in his thoughts of Liam, Emma, and - surprisingly - his mother. Threading his memories and what he’d heard from stray bits of conversation together, a picture appeared. There had been an accident. Emma had… He struggled to even think about it, but she had died. He had survived, if you could call it that. Chained to a bed by encroaching brain death, his freedom lost to machines holding him in stasis.

A stasis that created this world of watching. Killian was a spectator as his body fought, wondering if he’d live or die as he suffered through infections and experimental treatment. Liam willed him to live, Emma willed him to live, and Killian… he simply wanted to be heard.

He talked to Emma, answering her and wondering what he’d do if she answered back. She never did. Hearing her voice was enough still. He loosely tried to keep track of time, but he noted the date when she brought a man with her. He’d noticed her appearance changing with sadness, her loose curls pinned tight and her posture going prim. She’d reverted to her walled state, untouchable and unable to be hurt or abandoned.

The man - she’d called him Will - opened the drawer of photographs Liam had hidden away. Killian loved their pictures. He’d taken millions of photos of them, millions more of Emma as he mapped her body in every way possible. One of his favorite rattled in the drawer, a timed picture on a ship he rented, them kissing on the deck standing still with lips pressed together at dusk for what felt like ages.

The resulting photo was gorgeous - a silhouette of them against moving stars and sunset colors. Laying under a blanket they’d talked for hours. She had turned to him, a serious look on her face that at first scared him.

She said with a serious look they needed to talk, and he’d panicked, terrified of what she’d say. The words left her mouth and his heart flip flopped in his chest, until her laughter bubbled over as he hugged her closer. She’d told him she’d changed her mind - having a baby wouldn’t be so bad.

This Will closed the drawer, and Killian watched as he returned to talk to Emma.

"When I first started coming here, after understanding I'd have to move on, I thought he responded to me. I thought," she looked up and swiped at her eyes and cheeks, "I thought he could hear me and I was some savior that would bring him back to me.”

_Oh, my sweet Swan. I do hear you. I’ve never left you, and you’ve never left me._

“I wanted, sometimes I still want..." she let out a sob and looked at the outlet near him where wires ended in thick black plugs.

In some ways he wished she would unplug him.

He watched as Liam trashed Emma again and again, his brother’s pain pinpointed into hatred for someone who couldn’t defend herself. Emma, in her grace, pushed Liam together with his nurse, and Killian watched his brother’s hatred melt away into love, a man Killian had never seen emerging from his pain. Their pictures went back up, Killian marveling at Emma and his smiling face out in the open again. Emma always lingered near one he knew was her favorite, autumn leaves bright as they laughed.

They stood next to each other, one unaware of the other. He ached. Even after she left he ached, the ache turning into worse pain. Another nurse came in, finding the problem. Tremaine had left a bandage unchanged. Emma stayed with him as pain continued to return, and his nurses fought to keep him stable. She murmured about staying too long, and he watched her move like clockwork making sure things were in order. For the first time in ages, she flickered. Days went by and she continued to fade, staying longer with him. She disappeared shortly after, Liam gone as well. It was quiet, the nurses’ footsteps and scratched pen to clipboard the only noises he heard. His body began to burn. The familiar feeling of infection running wild through him, but somehow worse. The familiar snap back into darkness was an unwelcome guest, his veins made of fire that lit an inferno. Machines began to beat off the chart, the familiar light showing up in his peripheral.

He heard Liam’s yells, and then there was brightness, brightness that blinded him and dazzled his eyes, pain taken away in an instant of light flowing through him.

When he blinked, he sat before a smiling man in a tweed suit, a cricket pin on his lapel. “Hello Mr. Jones. Welcome.”

* * *

 

“What - I died?”

The man blinked, scratching his ginger hair and adjusting his glasses. “Well, um, yes. Most people don’t remember -”

“I need to find someone. I think she’s here, I -”

“Mr. Jones, calm down if you will, please. We have to talk about -”

“I don’t give a damn, I need to find her, I need to find her now!”

“Mr. Jones, that’s not how things work, there’s rules and procedures -”

“What part of ‘I do not give a damn’ did you not understand, mate?” Killian’s voice rose and the man cowered slightly. A door behind him flew open, Killian turning with his jaw set.

“Oi! What’s this then, trouble, Hopper? Listen here -” Recognition crossed both the faces of Killian and the man before him, sudden understanding blinking into existence. “You!”

Killian actually laughed, a grin starting on his face. “My reputation precedes me, I see. Will. Finally I get to say hello.” Will glanced down, and when he looked up gave him an uneasy look. “Where is she?”

Turning to the man still clinging to his chair, Will nodded towards Killian. “Hopper, uh, this is… This is Emma’s…”

Hopper’s face paled more, his lips pulling down. “Oh no.”

Killian repeated himself, anxiety rising in his chest. “Where is she? Where is Emma?”

Will sighed. “It’s a long story, and… Look, ‘ave a seat. We’re going to be here for a bit.”

“Is Emma alright?” Killian felt his anxiety grow into full blown fear, fists clenching as his body tensed.

Will looked at him with pity, and Killian could feel his heart breaking. He sank into a chair as Will wrung his hands, eyes becoming glassy. “No. I’m so sorry, but Emma… Emma is gone.”

* * *

 

When Elsa took a week off, using her rarely touched vacation days and citing a family emergency, no one in the ward was surprised. For the first time in what felt like decades, the patient room on the corner was empty; a stark and vacuous reminder of how fragile things were. Tremaine had been fired, much to many nurses’ relief, and when Liam had not come back to collect many of Killian's items, they were boxed up and put in a cabinet for pickup.

The nurse that had the sad task of preparing Mr. Jones’ room for a new patient was Ariel, her heart heavy as she packed picture after picture away. She was surprised how cold it was in the room, checking the thermostat and finding it set to a normal 71°; the cold made no sense. That would need to be checked, she noted. When she reached for a particular frame of the patient carrying a blonde haired woman on his back, both laughing, she felt an intense feeling of someone watching her, boring holes through her being. She touched the frame, and it shot out of her reach towards the empty bed, landing squarely in the middle as the lights flickered.

She shrieked, running out of the room, and to the nursing station.

“Ariel, what the heck -” another nurse, Ella, hissed at her.

“That room- room 305! The lights and that- a picture! It flew!” Ariel was obviously shaken, and refused to go back in there even as her boss was called to press her.

“I'm down two nurses already, please just get someone to take care of it,” he'd intoned in his nasally voice.

By the time he came in the next day, none of the nurses would go in the room, even with the pictures removed. By the time Elsa returned the next week, it was a hospital wide rumor. Elsa had immediately laughed, as at precisely 4:07 pm on the dot the lights flickered, her immediate belief that it was an insensitive joke the team was playing. Solemn faces met hers.

“Watch, Elsa.” Whispered Aurora, pointing to the door. “In three minutes, that door is going to fly open by itself.”

Elsa looked around for a clock, noticing only now the small groups from other departments milling around and watching. Even some patients had joined to watch, and she felt her stomach turn uneasily. The clock showed time passing in the slowest of measure, and for a moment the ward was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Nothing happened, but as she turned to tell Aurora off, the door slammed open as lights flickered, papers on the nursing station fluttering around in an icy breeze.

“The paper thing is new,” Aurora commented, casually. The lights above them flickered, along with a few down the hallway as people gasped and in a few cases (one being Dr. Whale) screamed curses. “So… is that...” Aurora said more nervously. When the nursing station’s cabinet doors ripped open with a clatter, spilling contents, Aurora yelped along with a majority of the Ward's staff, Ariel almost in tears. “ _That_ is _definitely_ new,” Aurora hissed.

Elsa could only gape as the lights returned. She had a sudden memory come to mind, snapping her fingers, and turned to Aurora.

“There's a nanny cam still in that room, from before when Li…” she paused, took a deep breath and collected herself “When the last patient was here. I'll grab it and we'll see if this is actually a haunting.”

Before she could be convinced otherwise, Elsa walked into room 305.

It was cold, dark and empty, nothing amiss as far as she could tell as she walked to the shelf she'd tucked the camera behind, in between rolls of paper towels and extra gowns. Pulling the camera down and carefully removing the memory card, she turned back to the door. As she made her way back, an item caught her eye on the bedside table. A photo frame. Squinting, she walked over to it. A picture of Liam's brother and his girlfriend? She picked it up and left.

“I thought all of these were taken out to give to his family?” Elsa asked, placing it on the nursing station’s counter.

Aurora blinked at her, and Ariel became caught in hysterics again. “Elsa, we _did_. Where did you get that?”

“You couldn't have. It was in there on the bedside table.” Elsa was exasperated at this point. She tried to check Aurora's face for any sort of tell, but only got a look of fear.

“Elsa… I taped that box up myself, and half the people here watched. None of us were or are going back in there. Go look, it's in the bottom cupboard.”

Elsa walked to the cupboard, opening the door to find a sealed box with Liam's name on it. The seal was unbroken.

Logging onto her computer, she plugged in the memory card to look at the video files. The camera had promised “120 days of continuous video!” when she bought it, and she had changed the cards right before the Fourth of July so it had plenty of memory. She opened the files, noting that they were separated by month. July was first, and she clicked through a few, watching Liam and her until it became too painful.

She skipped to August, to the night… She took a breath, and clicked on the night the patient had passed. A video of the nurses rushing in, and his furious progression into organ failure. Liam's frame making it just in view for a moment before he was pushed out. Their team working frantically until slowly, they trickled out leaving Liam, his brother and the doctor alone.

Finally the doctor left, and Liam sat alone for hours until his brother was taken to the morgue, leaving only then. Elsa refused to cry, tears spilling over anyway as she wiped them away. This wasn't what she was here for. The next day began automatically. Nothing. An empty room. At 2:45pm, a breeze moved the bedsheets of the cot slightly, but nothing was amiss.

The next day, the same, the bed sheets moved slightly around 2:45pm, and Elsa presumed rationally that is when the AC kicked on. That day however, the bedsheets moved more forcefully, as if an unseen hand was pulling them.

The third day, Ariel stepped in around 1:00pm and began collecting personal effects. She moved to pictures on the bedside, and looked around shivering. When she reached for a photo, the lights flickered and when they turned back on Elsa could see the picture on the bed just as she described as she ran out of the room. At 2:45, the bedsheets on the bed smoothed around the picture frame. Elsa blinked, and rewound. As if by magic, the wrinkles and any crooked corners smoothed around the picture frame.

The next day, an exhausted looking Hans walked in, coffee in hand at 8:15am to collect the picture on the bed, shaking his head and calling towards the door. When he touched the frame, the bed shook as the lights flickered, his coffee spilling everywhere. A janitor arrived at slightly after 9 to clean up the spill and remove the picture, only to have every drawer thrown open. Finally, Dr. Bell stomped in, took the picture and stomped out at 4:07, the door to the room slamming itself open and shut several times as the camera’s picture distorted.

Elsa watched in fascination, confusion and terror as she fast forwarded to today's date, watching as the bedside table remained empty. Silence for days besides the door slamming, until she came to where she walked into the room. As she picked the camera up with her face taking up most of the shot, a dark, shadowy, form sat on the bed, placing a picture frame on the bedside table.

* * *

 

When the email appeared in his inbox, Liam had almost deleted it on the spot. His phone was set straight to voicemail in hopes of aiding his ambition to drink, unable to think about the quiet burial on a rainy morning. The bottom of a bottle was soothing, the only noise the clink of glass or the sound of things he’d broken. He’d forgotten the ping of emails on his laptop until the noise broke through a hangover.

“Please respond - Killian’s belongings” from a hospital email, the nurse who had called him the night that… He pushed the memory from his mind, not opening the message. The next day, another email arrived. “Urgent!!! - Please get these items!!!” again from this Ariel, desperate for him to answer. This time he did delete the messages, watching as they populated in his trash folder. He didn’t hear from her again for a few days, when another message appeared. “Viral Video - In case you see it online first: rm305 ghost?” His confusion was only matched by his anger. He opened the message to find a short message, followed by a video link. “Mr. Jones,

I hate to reach out to you like this, but your brother has some items here that are causing some issues and we have unable to reach you by phone. We recently have had some problems in rm 305, and while it was only a hospital issue, a video regarding the situation has leaked to YouTube. You are not on these recordings, but considering the nature of them, I wanted to let you know. We don’t know who leaked them, only that the things in this video cannot be disproven. There may even be an investigation with how much of an issue these occurrences are causing, and they have closed down our ward. The hospital is working diligently to find who leaked this, but we have no leads yet. I know this may sound crazy, but I think you should watch this and consider coming by.

-Ariel Maidon”

Clicking the link took him to a video called, “ROOM 305 GHOST MERCY HOSPITAL”, and he felt his eyes narrow. The video started off with the blurred face of a nurse gathering photos into a box as she looked around the room anxiously. He recognized them immediately: Killian’s prized collection of photos once displayed on his mantle. The nurse reached for a frame, and the lights flickered, the picture appearing in the hospital bed. Liam was beyond livid. This was a mockery, some fool’s insensitive way to make money off of his brother. He went to grab his phone and call his lawyer, when Elsa’s face came into frame, blurred out but unmistakable. Circled behind her was a black shadow figure, holding a framed picture. Elsa was in on this? His rage boiled over, speaking to his lawyer in clipped tones.

When he hung up, he felt more anger than before : The video showed nothing of him or his brother, nor was it his own intellectual property. There was nothing he could do except talk to the hospital.

* * *

 

When Belle went home, it was as if nothing had changed, like she’d decided to turn around instead of heading to school. Will was waiting at the bus stop where she’d left him years ago. The best friend who she’d abandoned forgave her instantly, his crooked smile everything she needed. Even when she sobbed into his embrace, he let her be. Will at first simply protected her, and she helped him come up with ideas for businesses. Where he felt his skills were limited, Belle saw potential. He picked their lock for fun one night after they had drinks, showing her how insecure her place was, and she’d suggested locksmithing. He’d smiled over his beer.

The first time Gold sent someone for Belle she’d been terrified. The ogre of a man had broken down her door, locks and all, yelling at her about squealing to an informant. She’d denied it, screaming for help. Luckily her landlord had called the police and the distant sirens had scared the stranger off. The first person she’d called was Will. He’d set her up in a different place, until she was found again, and then again in a hotel she’d rented. Finally after she noticed someone following her, she’d begged Will for help. His business in town was having no success due to his reputation so he made her an offer. _“_

_Let’s move away. Come with me.”_

If her heart warmed for the first time since she lost Gideon, she pretended not to notice.

In a new apartment, in a new town, they settled into a routine. Belle had saved a large sum of money in a hidden bank account for her and Gideon to escape if they needed to, planning on running years ago but always being too scared. She purchased a small shop space, devoted to books, becoming quite the collector of old or discontinued print items. Will’s locksmith business was also taking off, and they found themselves happily eating dinners together or sitting and watching a movie together after long days.

Belle made the first move, tentatively laying against him and bring Will’s arm over the dip in her side, snuggling into him. A soft kiss on the cheek came next as a thank you for a birthday cake and a framed picture of Gideon and her together. A full kiss that left them both breathless after his team had won the World Cup, which turned into a long and slow session of kissing on their couch. Things went slow. Belle’s heart healed and reset, a friendly love turning into something more. His hand found hers at the movies, hers snaking into his when they found time to go for walks.

Will listened to her cry and comforted her through bouts of sorrow so deep and dark she could not see an end. Even then, he’d waited patiently without pushing anything a all until she sought him, laughing when she told him why they shouldn’t be together: because love is terrible.

“I dunno. I’ve had unrequited love since 6th grade or so, and it’s hard, but never terrible. The only pain I ever got from it was watching her suffer, but watching her heal has helped a lot.”

There was warmth in her chest like when she first kissed Gold, but this time it had dimension, layers, a foundation without cracks. At night when she thought more about it, she remembered Will running to her, or his promises when she would visit him and stare through the glass at his guilty face. Crawling out of bed and laying next to his body, Belle watched him stir, holding her breath.

Will’s surprised blinks through grogginess are at first in shock, then happiness, as he gathered her into him. “If this turns out to be a dream, I’ll be right pissed off,” he mumbled sleepily, and she laughed, falling asleep with him.

Her old room was bigger with an ensuite, but his bed more comfortable. After what felt like a day of torture, his bed now in her room and her lumpy mattress rested on the curb, they had purchased a desk for a new home office where Will could run things run things instead of from the living room. When he suggested a date to celebrate, they ended up dancing through the aches left from moving furniture all day and medicating with a Long Island special that left her drunk. She’d begged him over sloppy kisses to touch her, and heard his groans as needy as hers.

When she woke up clothed, Will greeted her with coffee.

“You’re going to have one helluva hangover, love.” He smiled sympathetically.

“We didn’t?”

“No. Until you’re ready, and can tell me when you’re sober to the point I believe you won’t regret it, I’d never.” He sipped his coffee on the edge of the bed. “I’m an idiot, and probably a fool, but not a monster.” She’d cried, smiling like an idiot and confusing the hell out of him as he went to put his arms around her. “Hey, hey, it’s alright -” rubbing her arms with his hands, as she shook her head.

“Will, I love you.”

* * *

 

Regina, Ruby, and Ruby’s charge Graham, made their way to Hopper’s office at a run, his call to them punctuated by bursts of yelling and the breaking of the various ceramics he had collected. Regina had no patience for this sort of thing. If she had a choice, she’d be sipping a martini while being fanned by a number of muscular men - but this was The Inbetween, Limbo, whatever people wanted to call it, not Paradise.

Ruby, on the other hand, was annoyed for an entirely different reason, watching the scientist she’d traded Hopper files and a week’s worth of pay for buttoning his fly as they ran to Hopper’s aid. Graham, a zoologist and nature filmmaker. They’d bonded over a love of wolves, the outdoors, and dying woefully single while still gorgeous. She liked the way his name tasted on her lips, and he just liked the way she tasted. Whatever this call was, it had better be good.

It was. Will stood, red faced and panting, facing a dark haired and half crazed looking stranger. The stranger chucked something at him with a snarl, before launching himself at Will who was busy dodging. Regina’s eyes went wide, a muttered swear before she dragged the stranger back.

“What the hell,” Regina pulled back on the dark haired man’s form as he struggled against her chokehold, “is going on here?” She thought for a moment he looked familiar, but could not place where.

“Will! Are you alright? Who is that?” Ruby ran to WIll, noticing a trickle of blood beginning to disappear on his forehead. “Jesus, how many times did he hit you?”

Archie chimed in, poking his head up over his desk chair. “A lot, they’ve been going at it blow for blow, and my mediating isn’t working, because Will -”

“It’s my fault, let him hit me.” Will spat blood, and Ruby’s eyes turned back to the stranger. “I told him he could, and I deserve it.”

Escaping Regina’s grip for a moment, the stranger lunged again rasping out words in his rage. “Bloody right it’s your fault, she’s not here and she _waited_! Emma waited for me, and you let her…” He let out a sound of anguish. “You bastard, you should have noticed -”

Regina’s eyes widened as she pulled the man back into a head lock, recognition finally lighting her eyes. “Oh, shit.” She leaned her arm back, tightening on his windpipe. “Well. It is you, isn’t it? Killian?”

Killian wheezed in her grasp. “Bad form to hit a lady, let me go so I can -”

Ruby blinked, finally putting the pieces together. “Wait, is he? You’re Killian? Like, Emma’s unfinished business Killian? 'Oh shit' is right!”

Will nodded. “I told him I’d take him to her, but we can’t fix it. We can’t fix…” His shoulders dropped, fists balled as he looked away. “He can take it out on me. It’s not like I won’t heal from it. He can push me off rooftops as far as I’m concerned at this point.”

“Don’t you dare cry for her!” Killian snarled again, shaking with rage.

Ruby’s face fell, Graham moving over to wrap an arm around her waist. Regina’s grip softened, but as Killian moved to lunge again, she grabbed his wrist twisting his arm. He was forced to a kneel, her grip a vice that he couldn’t escape.

“Don’t you dare tell us not to cry for her.” Regina spoke in a low voice, wavering at the end of the sentence. “I watched as she sat with you for hours. Will was her charge. Ruby and Hopper tried to make her laugh. We were her _friends._ Emma told us everything there was about you.” “He ate so healthy, when he wakes up the hospital food will drive him insane.”

Ruby imitated in a pitch perfect imitation of Emma. Killian turned, a glare softening. “And she’d imitate you: ‘How dare you give me bloody gelatin,’ with a smile.”

“She said we’d be fast friends, more than once. Should ‘ave known it’d come to blows.” Will looked up, crying. “She was my best friend here. Her home is right next to mine -”

“Emma had a home here?” Killian interrupted in a quiet voice.

Will nodded. “I don’t know if it will stay up, though, I’ve been watching for looters or anyone poking around. I won’t let anyone take the last fragments of her.”

There was a pause, heavy silence falling over the room. “I’ll take you, if you want.” Regina bent down laying a hand on Killian’s shoulder and releasing her grip.

He shook her off, glaring ahead at Will. “No. He can take me.” Killian nodded at Will, who walked to the door without a word before turning to look at Hopper, sitting in his desk chair.

“Hopper, have his file on my desk. I’ve got this one.” Will left, and Killian followed behind, shoes crunching on shards of ceramic. They headed for the residential area in silence. Emma’s home was undisturbed, one of Will’s charges sitting on the porch.

“Hey Will!” She waved, red hair falling everywhere. “I didn’t expect you to be back so early, but no one has tried anything.”

“Thanks Merida. I’ll see you later.” He waved her off, even as she cast strange looks at the man behind him. Looking back, Killian’s jaw was set, face set in quiet anger, softening as he saw Emma’s home. He stared ahead at the small house, and Will approached, touching the sea glass windchime near the door. “She said it was for good luck,” Will said quietly. Killian nodded, his face crumbling.

“We had one at home.” Joining Will on the small porch, he gently touched a piece of sea glass, listening to the chiming pieces. “I guess they didn’t work.”

Will opened the door, and as soon as Killian stepped inside his anger was replaced with longing and grief. Leaning in the doorway, Will watched Killian take a few steps, breathing in the cinnamon and vanilla scent of her, breaking into tears. Touching her things, soft blankets on a red leather couch, paintings of the sea under the stars or a VW bug the color of sunshine. A buttercup growing in a pale blue pot, closely guarded, brought sobs through a smile, but a sketchbook filled with scratched kohl drawings of him brought actual laughter.

“She never liked to draw. Only painting, and even then she didn’t like me to watch.” Killian’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

“Things get boring here if you don’t find new hobbies. She started that because…” Will looked suddenly uncomfortable.

“What? I’m done punching you, mate.”

“She started that because she said she was forgetting you,” Will murmured. The sentence filled the room, stretching into guilt so heavy it ached on their shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s… It’s alright. Can you take me to her? I’m ready.” Killian pulled a pillow into his embrace, closing his eyes.

“I can, sometimes time moves funny here, so a few weeks have past. I’m going to tell you though, we can’t fix this. So are you planning on staying with her?” Will cast his glance down, already knowing the answer.

“If that’s what it takes to be with her.”

“You won’t be with her though, you’ll be looking for her for eternity. Haunts don’t react to one another unless it’s drastic - Like a murder or trauma.” Will’s voice rose. “Emma wouldn’t want you to -”

“Don’t tell me what Emma would have wanted.” The dangerous low growl was back, Killian’s eyes narrowed. “She’s not here, because of you. Take me to her.”

Will sighed. A puff of gray smoke and they were in a hospital hallway, Killian feeling sick from the pull in his navel. The lights were off, yellow tape on his old room and the ward doors, but someone was there and yelling.

“What did you do!” Liam’s voice? Killian blinked. What the hell was his brother doing here? Peeking around the corner, two figures sat in the empty nurses’ station. Liam looked a right mess, his hair unruly, dark circles under his eyes, and the beginnings of a beard growing.

“I didn’t do anything. I promise you.” Elsa’s voice pleading. “Liam, you look terrible. You shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake on my part, When I got your email I thought you…”

Liam grunted. “You thought I what? Was coming to take you back on a date after you showed me proof of a ghost? A ghost that you made up just to garner sympathy?”

“Liam. Please. I thought -”

“Stop thinking and show me the damn fake ghost, or whatever you've got cooked up, like you said you would.”

Killian could rip Liam’s head off, someone caring for his stubborn arse more than anything only to be pushed away by pain.

As if on cue, Will whispered, “Your brother is a prat and a damned asshole.”

Killian actually managed a small sad grin at that and nodded. “If you only knew.”

A light flickered with a shower of sparks, and Killian could see something building into a shrouded figure within his old room. Emma. She was here.

“Here we go,” whispered Elsa. At her words, everything in his old room trembled like an earthquake had hit.

Killian turned to Will, extending a hand. “I’m not sorry for punching you, but thanks. For everything. You were there for her when I couldn’t be, and I can’t be angry at that. Goodbye,” Killian said with a nod, and Will shook his hand. He walked into the chaos that was ensuing in the room, listening to his brother’s protests of fake effects.

Emma stood in the middle of the room, a silent wail coming from her mouth as she shuffled towards the nurses station. A mixture of white and grays, faded to an opaque mix of mist that curled like a thick fog rolling in made up an image of her. There was no color, no blonde hair or green eyes, no flush of pink on her cheeks; her lips once a pale rose lost. Her face contorted in fury instead, tendrils of the haze that surrounded her pulsing out as things shook, knocking anything near her over. Pictures of them littered the floor, broken glass everywhere.

“Emma, oh, love.” Killian tried to embrace her, but a cold chill entered his being like being dropped into ice water. She moved through him and he could hear her scream of grief. She was unfazed by his appearance, unable or unwilling to see him. Making her way out the door towards Liam and Elsa, the world shuddered around her. The tape covering the room broke as the nurses’ station’s contents flew everywhere, pelting Liam and Elsa. Liam yelled, a computer keyboard ripping off the desk as drawers and cabinets flying open and shut. Killian could barely hear him above the noise, watching Emma in her wrath. Emma cried, neck straining and cabinet doors fell off their hinges, yanked free as the contents exploded.

“Liam! Look out!” Elsa was screaming about something as she pushed him out of the way, a light shattering where he was before, the piece splitting to hit her in the back of the head. Her body went limp over his.

“We need to get out of here, damn it all, what even is this?” Liam tried to clear a pathway, protecting himself from the hurricane-like debris that rained down on him. “Elsa?” He shook her and she let out a moan without opening her eyes. “No, Elsa, c’mon love.” Liam pulled her further into him, shielding her with his frame.

Killian reached through Emma again, desperately trying to grasp her. “Emma, you’re hurting people, you need to stop!” The roar he heard from her was like an oncoming train. He was thrown away, his own form roughly hitting a wall. Will tried to approach Emma’s form but was thrown as well, her anger practically an electric current running through the air.

Emma only stared at Liam, gently shaking Elsa’s shoulders. She raised a finger, pointing at him. The nurses station and cabinets began to rock, Liam trying to scoot away while being battered from all sides. Killian fought through whatever force surrounded her, arms out to protect himself and reached for her hand. The cabinets rocked harder, brackets splitting the drywall that held them in place. A filing cabinet fell, trapping Liam and Elsa in the nurses’ station, Liam pulled her tightly into his chest, pressing her into him.

“Emma!” Killian reached again, moving closer. “Emma I’m here, I’m here to stay with you!” His hand caught hers, finally grasping something corporeal. Her eyes were on his suddenly, cabinets still rocking but wind lessening. “It’s me love, Killian. I’m here.”

“I couldn’t find you.” Emma’s voice was the quietest whisper, everything stopping and going still as she looked at him.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Taking several steps forward, he kissed her forehead. “I’m here now. I’ll stay with you, it’s alright.”

“Always?” Warmth met his palms, once cold and stiff. Emma’s fingers wove themselves into his, interlocking. “You’re really here?”

“I’ll never stop fighting for us. I would follow you to the end of the world, and obviously the next.”

“Killian, it’s really you.” Emma let out a laugh, the noise beautiful to his ears. She peppered his face with kisses, laughing at the smile that crept on his face. Her body felt solid in his arms, mist fading away until her eyes were the green he dreamt about.

“Aye, it’s really me.” They laughed, and he spun her in a circle.

Will watched in awe at Emma cupping Killian’s face, laughing through tears. He glanced to where Elsa and Liam had been, watching as Liam pulled them out of the nurses’ station now that no debris was flying.

A cut on his forehead dripped, and Elsa stirred. “Liam… You’re bleeding?” She touched the scrape, and he brushed her hand away.

“It’s fine, I’m more concerned about you. Are you alright?” Liam touched the back of her head gingerly, and she winced. “If it’s any consolation, I believe you now. That was insane -”

“It’s not normally this bad. I don’t know what made it worse this time…”

Killian smiled. “They’ll be alright, I think.”

Emma returned his knowing look. “I missed you so much.”

Pressing his lips against hers, they kissed, white light blinding in the room. They glowed as the world disappeared, along with all the pain that had been sitting for so long. Emma’s lips moved in perfect sync with his, hands feeling her waist; pulling her closer, making the kiss deeper, more passionate. A gentle golden sparkle and they were gone, leaving a bewildered Liam, Elsa, and Will.

Elsa and Liam glanced at each other, still sitting in his lap. She moved to crawl a few feet, staring at the spot where two very clear figures had embraced passionately - one, for sure, being Liam’s brother. “Did you see that?” Liam whispered. “Please tell me you just saw that and I’m not imagining things because I’ve gone mental -”

“Your brother and his girlfriend? Either that or we are hallucinating due to a multitude of factors.”

“What the hell just happened?” Liam shook his head, rubbing the heel of his palm firmly against his forehead.

“I don’t know, honestly.” Elsa laughed, looking up at him. “I may have a concussion, but I feel like they found peace. Maybe you coming here helped? I don’t know, I guess. This room is just suddenly filled with so much love, just from them.”

“I’m sorry.”

Elsa looked up at him head cocked. “For what?”

“Where should I start? Elsa, I’m an idiot and I miss you -” She raised a finger to silence him.

“Liam, I can’t. I loved you. I still…” Looking away, her fingers picked at her braid. “I can’t be like we were.”

“I understand.” Liam stiffened, nodding with a mask of understanding to cover his disappointment.

“I’d like to start over. Maybe we can try again? You just got over losing someone, and I’d love to be there to help you get through it.” Elsa smiled, and Liam’s heart began to pound.

“Pending concussion and or gas inhalation, would you like to get dinner tonight?” He began to stand, helping her up.

She picked debris off of him, running her hands down his chest. “Italian?” Elsa looked up and met his eyes, seeing the same feelings mirrored there.

“Anything you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr at Courtorderedcake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year.

Will was shocked the first few days of Emma’s newfound absence, mostly because she disappeared in a cloud of blinding golden sparkles like a literal fairytale. Once the period of confusion and strangeness of that wore off, he found himself angry. He shouldn’t be, of course; Emma had gotten a happy ending. She’d moved on, possibly not even on purpose, leaving him to deal with things alone. The promise they made be damned, she deserved to be happy. 

There was resentment at the fact he was waiting alone now. He had Regina, Ruby, Hopper, and now Graham (when he could get Ruby off him long enough to speak), but he missed Emma. He missed her even more now that he knew she wasn’t a Haunt, that she could laugh at him and he could meet the person she’d described Killian as when he was with her. He felt cheated. 

In the moments when he realized Emma wasn’t going to return, Liam and Elsa were exchanging looks of mutual pining, and his time was running out. Before he could get stuck in a hospital of all places, he took a look at the bulletin board. It was as if a gentle tug pulled him, and a neon green paper caught his eye. Belle had been looking for a roommate, their flat too expensive and the shop in distress. Gaston had finally showed his pig headed and chauvinistic flair by trying to cop a feel while Belle was up a bookshelf, Will wishing more than ever he was alive. Belle had dropped a heavy volume on his head, but it wasn’t enough. Belle fired him, and took on more work.

Then there was her creepy neighbor, a B. Alefire. Will’s instincts had been dead on about his intentions, as he dropped poems and gifts in her mailbox. Belle however, was somewhat smitten. He knew her favorite poems, guessed her favorite books, sent her favorite flowers and even knew she didn’t care for chocolate, sending her a Snacks of the World gift box instead. When Will would wander over to the man’s apartment, he was rarely there, the place was clean and quiet. Almost untouched. The silence made his stomach turn, a bad feeling growing.

The green paper on the bulletin board was a request for an apartment close to transportation and/or the hospital. ‘A doctor with odd hours and a quirky view of the world seeks intelligent roommate, preferably clean. Cooking skills a plus. Animals not a problem’. Will looked at the cut slips at the bottom, and none were taken. Pushing his hands against the paper, he willed whatever force they had to get the information to Belle.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Belle was starting to get desperate in her search for a roommate, frantically scouring ads to find anyone who didn’t sound like they would eat her skin or leave her missing a kidney. At one point her inbox contained so many pictures of genitalia, she considered starting an art exhibit to try to earn the money instead. Closing her laptop, she looked out on the gray winter day, icy rain falling that turned into brown-gray puddles of slush. A few customers had come in and out but there were no sales except online for the day; her lunch break would include a run to the post office.

A pop of color caught her eye. A blonde woman wearing a bright green raincoat complete with matching boots, her hair falling out of a matching stocking cap with large white pom pom stomped into her shop. Belle blinked, and waved a hello. “Welcome, to -” 

“Oh no, I just came in to ask if I could put one of these up somewhere?” She held up a green flyer, the same shade she styled herself with. “I’m looking for a roommate, and the flyers I keep putting around my hospital keep getting torn down, probably by one of the blokes I’ve told that I wouldn’t date if they paid me. I am getting desperate.” Bright eyes surveyed Belle. “You wouldn’t know someone who is looking for a roommate would you? I’m frantic, if you can’t tell, and if I have to live alone I’ll end up somewhere cheap downtown where I’ll have to carry bear mace and watch drug deals -” 

“Actually, I do know someone who’s looking,” Belle interrupted calmly.

“Oh, bless you, I’d prefer a female roomie if possible, but I’m not terribly picky. Could you give her one of these? I’m Justine Bell by the way, but everyone calls me Tink.” 

“How did you know my name?” Belle looked slightly confused for a moment, the expression mirrored in Tink’s face as she handed her a flyer. “Oh! My name’s Belle. What a funny coincidence.” 

Tink laughed, watching as she read over her words. “So you will give one to her, yeah?” “How about we go grab lunch, since I am the ‘her’ in question. I have to go out anyway, and you look like you’ve had quite the day.” Belle smiled warmly. Tink let out another laugh, and nodded, a grin painting her face.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Will was overjoyed to see Belle invite Tink to live with her. Becoming fast friends almost immediately, they’d made the decision after the first time Tink had visited the flat. They’d made jokes about running a PI department should they lose their prospective jobs, ‘Bell and Belle: Private Investigators, like the Hardy Brothers, but hot and unrelated’. Giggling over wine, Belle had glanced at the almost empty room she’d refused to enter for so long. 

The day before Tink was set to move in, Belle had entered his office and sat quietly in his chair letting it spin in small circles. His desk and calendar were all that were left of his belongings in the room; she’d taken piece after piece out as she’d given up hope of him returning to her. Tracing a finger over the notes taped to his desk in his scratched handwriting, Belle found herself crying for him again, the smell on his chair faded like the rest of his being soon would be. She moved the desk back to its former place in the living room, peeling off the notes and sticking them and the calendar in a box of his belongings she couldn’t bring herself to part with.

He’d fled instead of continuing to watch, returning to stare at his barely furnished home’s ceiling and pluck at his guitar. Emma’s house was still dormant and no one bothered to try and come anymore, knowing that they’d be tracked down not only by Will, but by Regina and Ruby, who were somehow far more frightening.

A light shone through his window, and he blinked. Maybe someone was stupid enough to try to loot her place after all. Storming over to the porch he called out through the cracked door.

“Come on out now, you don’t belong in there and if you don’t bugger right on off -” his mouth went dry as the door opened. 

“I checked the address, and I believe this is still my house, Mr. Scarlet.” Emma smiled softly at him. There was a glow to her cheeks, hair down in long blonde curls that made her seem so much gentler. “If I’m mistaken, I’ll have to do some moving; the paintings and the flower that you’ve been over watering are definitely mine.” 

“You moved on.” Stammering, he shook his head. “I watched you, you disappeared to bleedin’ heaven or whatever -”

“And it was lovely, but I had a promise to keep here.” Emma shrugged, “And, I heard about the impression that was left when someone tore through here.” She nodded her head towards an approaching Killian, who grinned sheepishly as he let a hand circle her waist.

“You’re going to stay?” Will looked at her incredulously. “You don’t have to, I don’t want to take away-”

“You’re not taking away anything. Killian and I can wait to go. Plus, I technically made your promise my unfinished business, I had to get this paperwork processed by angels who are surprisingly bureaucratic - can you believe paradise has paperwork? At least it’s angelic hosts on high doing it, I guess. And let me tell you, angels - the strangest things I’ve ever seen.” Emma took a breath, and made a face. “So Killian in his wisdom says, ‘Bloody hell, what is that?’ to an actual angel, and I swear. Try to imagine an incorporeal mass of pure light rolling its eyes, or eye.” Emma laughed, and Will finally cracked a smile.

“Well at least it changed it’s form, I wasn’t keen on glittering puff of smoke explaining travel between planes of existence and what paperwork we needed. Talking to something that looked slightly like a person helped, even with the pretentious wings and halo. Ostentatious holy bird man.” Killian grumbled, but his grin was wide as Emma continued laughing. Will had never seen her so happy.

“Anyway, then Killian couldn’t stay without me because I’m his unfinished business. We had to explain it was a package deal sort of thing, so they had to pull all sorts of strings. A disgruntled angel in clerical service is just…” She snorted, and by this time Will and Killian had begun to laugh. Finally, she wiped a tear from her eye, laughter tapering off. “And then, I had a bunch of cases here I threw on who even knows. It was irresponsible to just leave. I owe you all a ridiculous amount of favors.”

“Emma thinks I’d be a good Guardian apparently,” Killian smirked, pressing a kiss to her temple. “She said you took to it, so there’s no way I could blunder it.”

Emma pushed him off of her, a playful glare on her face. “I did not -”

“It sounds like you, frankly. I believe him.” Will grinned a crooked grin, and waved them on. “Everyone is at Finny’s. You two have explaining to do, neighbors.” “Apologies in advance about that, mate.” Killian chuckled. Will shot them a look of abject horror with a groan, sending Emma into hysterical laughter as they headed to the bar.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“So have you seen this secret admirer of ours? Because I do have to say, excellent taste in wine. I mean phenomenal.” Tink giggled to Belle. She was currently laying upside down on their couch, as they watched some show on amazing cakes. 

Belle rolled her eyes. “Maybe once or twice, he usually comes round late. You’ll probably see more of him, with the hours you keep.” Belle couldn’t hide the hint of jealousy in her voice. 

“Well,” Tink put on an airy southern accent, “I never, I might have to be downright neighborly and say hello, I do declare.” Belle shot her a glare, and Tink giggled again. “Sorry, I had to. It’s cute when you’re jealous.”

“Has anyone told you, you are rude and annoying?” Belle retorted. 

“You remind me everyday to do it more!” Tink grinned, flopping her feet over the side of the couch and standing. “Speaking of annoying, I’m working tonight. Mind if I take the leftover Chinese?”

“Go ahead.” Belle waved a hand. 

Tink grabbed her lunch pail and filled it with the white cartons, waving a quick goodbye to Belle. She took the bus to the closest stop from the hospital, a large park that sprawled for acres, ending in a wetland nature preserve. It was beautiful, the picturesque setting earning it the name ‘Storybook Park’. 

Checking her watch and making sure she had the time, she took out the fried noodles she’d packed and headed off the paved path towards a swampy marsh area. Feeding the birds and chipmunks that lived in the reeds, Tink tried to maintain the razor balance of her peace of mind, her thoughts running wild per usual. She always felt the need to be busy, always had to have her hands working or mind tearing apart some greater puzzle. Belle had been indulging that lately, which enchanted and frustrated her. She could get lost learning new things, tinkering with old ways of thinking until something new developed or a new theory was presented.

She sighed, throwing the last of the noodles from the greasy wax bag. If only she had that sort of mental challenge with anyone who was interested in her in other ways. It wasn’t enough to be able to to talk to a friend, especially since Belle was the only one who entertained her on that level - even in her resident cohort of medical students. Intellectually, she felt as if she was alone, or too far below anyone who might match her wit. Finding anyone who wasn’t stuffy was also a challenge. 

Belle, for example, was also hysterically funny and brought tears to her eyes from snorting laughter. They could engage in silliness and switch right back to discussing the benefits of infrared lasers without pause. There were times, Tink wished she could find a version of Belle in someone else. If she thought about it, Belle alone would be a wonderful partner, but she’d made it clear that she was closed to anything besides pining after their neighbor. Even that was from a distance, Belle too scared of being hurt. Tink saw a movement from her peripheral, a leather jacket clad man watching her from a distance. When she noticed him, something low pulled at her stomach and the hairs on the back of her neck stood. She took a step forward, squinting and trying to see him - his outline seemed blurred somehow.

“Hello?” Yelling into the woods, the man took a few steps back, and promptly disappeared. Tink blinked, trying to understand what happened, running forwards. The mud was undisturbed, and she laughed uneasily. Turning, she caught a flash of gold hair, a woman taking off with her bag into the wetlands. “Fuck! Hey, come back!”

Tink ran after the thief, losing the blonde among reeds. She spotted her neon green bag among the dirt and mud. Pulling it up, a glinting silver chain caught her eye. Pulling it out of the muck and rainy autumn run off from the woods, she examined the square necklace, rubbing it clean on her jeans. It was a book shaped pendant, beautiful swirling patterns on the front. Tink stowed it in her bag, unsure where the thief could be, and stumbled back towards the path.

Her uneasy feeling didn't abate, the purse thief and peeping Tom unnerving her as she neared the path at a quick pace. A man with spiky brown hair and a tasteful peacoat waved her down before she could reach the cement. Tink prepared herself, noting his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, are you alright Miss? I heard yelling, did you see something out there?” He asked, and her uneasy feeling peaked.

“Someone tried to steal my bag, but I've got pepper spray and two years of self defense classes.” Adjusting her stance, she squared herself just in case. “I have a shift starting in 30 minutes and they'll suspect something if I'm late.”

The man smiled, but didn't remove his hands. “It's alright, I'm not going to do anything. You didn't see anything else?” Tink shook her head at his question. He held up both hands defensively. “Alright, I'll just keep heading to the hospital. Sorry about that.”

Tink waited a bit, struggling with her fear. Finally she ran after him.

“Look, I have to go to the hospital too, can we just walk together? I am kinda freaking out.” She wrung her hands, and he smiled.

“Sure. Do you mind if I practice some speech lines on you?” He asked.

“Uh, okay.”

“I'm Neal Gold, representing Gold pharmaceuticals. The product here is -”

Tink's jaw dropped. “You're Neal Gold? The Neal Gold? I hear so much about you! I'm Tink, er, Dr. Bell. I'm a resident at Mercy! This is an honor.” She extended a hand.

She blamed the sudden chill down her spine on the electricity from their hands touching. He kissed the top of her hand, grinning.

“The pleasure, Tink, is all mine.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

If Liam was honest with himself, in many ways he was grateful to his brother for blazing a bright path for him to follow when it came to love. He’d watched the man become an absolute moron, babbling about how he’d met someone, his friend’s younger sister, looking like she lit the stars when he sighed her name like a school boy. Alternatively, Liam had also watched his younger brother become a desolate asshole who drank away his hatred for the service and the same woman he’d once touted as his soulmate, all because she had pushed him away when he had admitted how much he cared for her.

Liam dealt in absolutes. It’s why he excelled in the Navy, in the business world, in anything where detail and precision demanded his attention. There was love, and hate, whole and broken. His brother had been in love with his whole heart, and now hated the woman that had broken it. A simple equation to parse through. Killian forgiving her when she had appeared again, his willingness to risk that pain again, only made crazier by his sudden decision to quit the service, had made Liam see red. “If your heart can be broken, it means it still works,” Killian had told him simply, as if it was as fundamental as breathing, “Love is the same way. You can fix it, you can make it work.” To top things off, he’d given Liam a look of wise pity, one that he would have recognized as a mirror of his own if he was ready to admit it then. Killian deserved more credit, his descriptions of patience when needed and head long chase that threw caution to the wind when it wasn’t had left Liam with whiplash until he had something to gauge it against.

Elsa needed patience, and so did he. His grief still sat close to the surface. Her presence was soothing, a welcome reprieve when they met for coffee or dinner. The first few times were awkward, but each meeting grew longer and lighter as a familiarity between them returned. He made no moves to pursue her, only focused on repairing what was left of his burnt bridges. His work rehired him, and he returned sheepishly. He met up with old mates, careful to limit his drinking.

Elsa joined him out with friends a handful of times, occasionally inviting him to her own friends get togethers -an art exhibit opening, a dinner party, to the opening night of a play. They started having dates more frequently, just dinner or dinner and a movie, talking about their days to reaffirm their friendship.

On a whim one weekend she came over unannounced, declaring she was helping to clean his place after he mentioned in conversation he was still finding glass on the floor. Like nothing had changed, her phone plugged into his speakers as he uncorked a bottle of wine. They swept, he mopped while she did dishes.

“Would you mind me ordering something to eat?” Liam had asked her as she danced to a song on her playlist, her back to him while she rinsed plates.

“Go ahead. You know what I like. I’m done with these anyway and you owe me.”

They ate dinner together at the bar in the kitchen straight from take-away cartons, and Elsa laughed delightedly when he pulled a carton of ice cream from the freezer. Spreading out over the living room’s sectional to watch a movie, Liam let her lay her head in his lap.

He woke to her wrapped in his arms, steadily breathing against his chest. Closing his eyes, he made himself comfortable and enjoyed the press of her, returning to sleep.

Elsa woke up to the sun’s rays in her eyes, the gentle grumble underneath her as Liam moved her carefully making her smile. She sat up, pulling away from him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I just need to - “

“I need to get going anyway.” She watched the way his face fell, and reached for his hand giving it a light squeeze. “I’m off tomorrow too. See you tonight, maybe?” He nodded, grin returning.

“I’ll cook.”

“I’ll bring a bottle of wine.” Slowly moving back over Liam’s body, Elsa giggled at the sharp intake of breath before she pressed her lips to his. He responded immediately, pressing back into her until she pulled away panting, amusement in her eyes. “I do have a little time before I absolutely need to go. I mean,” Elsa pressed a kiss below his ear and listening to the groan pulled from his lips. “If you have time.”

Liam kissed her back fiercely, her hands finding the back of his neck as he pushed her backwards. “Oh, I have the time, darling.” Elsa let out a squeak as he picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She giggled as he pulled her into his bedroom, laying her on his bed and lowering himself to kiss her breathless again . Her hand cupped his cheek gently, and they broke apart as he stared into her eyes.

“Hey,” she whispered, letting him kiss her palm. “I missed you, Liam.” Her voice cracked when she whispered his name, heart flipping in her chest.

“I missed you, so much. Elsa, I -” he stopped, looking at her for any reservation or fear, finding only forgiveness in the warmth of a quiet smile. He gathered his courage, finally ready to take the leap, but her mouth met his instead. Her other hand found his, fingers threading in his own. His words slid out before he could stop them. “I love you, Elsa.”

Elsa’s smile was beautiful, her words soft and sincere. “I love you too, Liam.” Rolling him over in his bed, Elsa rolled her hips against his. “You know,” she said, purring, “I don’t actually have anywhere to be, in truth.”

“Bloody hell. Yes you do,” Liam growled. He bucked up, and she giggled, but with a quick movement she was back under him. “You belong right here.” He whispered huskily, kissing down her neck while she gasped. They kissed again, this time hungrily and impatient as her hands roamed under his shirt.

Later, wrapped in sheets and each other, Elsa rested her head against Liam’s chest.

“I know I told you before, but I missed you so much,” she whispered. Liam pressed a kiss to her temple, meeting her eyes. “I feel like I’m home when I’m with you. Like, we’re meant to be.”

Liam held her tighter, thinking of Killian and the way he described the person he said he wanted to spend his life with.

“She’s everything, my soulmate. Emma’s heart is the most precious treasure I’ve ever held, and one that I don’t intend to lose - She’s my home, Liam. She makes me better, inspires me to be better even if you don’t see it. I’d follow her to hell and back. I’m going to marry her, with or without Mum’s ring. I’m happier with her than I’ve ever been, and I hope one day you’ll find the same love with someone.”

“I feel the same, love.”

Closing his eyes, he whispered without sound. “I found her, little brother.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Neal wasn’t exactly Tink’s type, but after his sales presentation he’d asked her to join him for dinner and she’d agreed. She felt he was entitled to a date after walking her to work after the purse snatcher experience in the park. He was still cute, she supposed. Mean, but smart, shrewd and highly logical.

She liked that, her analytical side cherishing their conversations, even if his theories or worldview was harsh. Neal was darker, more troubled by things than anyone she’d met. If things weren't to his expectations, he coldly and shrewdly demanded it to be fixed. He seemed world weary in the occasional slips of his mask she saw as one date turned into three, and three turned into several more. Over expensive wine he talked about things in a completely clinical manner, any magic in the world destroyed long before they met.

One particularly nice night, their discussion led into something more. They’d met at an upscale hotel bar, nibbling tapas as they argued over the ethics of medical insurance coverage. When she had him cornered in his own fallacy, instead of conceding he pressed his lips harshly against her. His kisses were rough, hands forceful, things moving fast. Of course it had to be ruined, Tink’s luck was just that great. Neal had given her a rough smack on the ass, in front of the rest of the restaurant.

“I’ll go get a hotel room for us,” Neal whispered huskily.

“We could go to my place? Or yours? No need to get a hotel room, it kind of makes me feel…” Tink shivered, looking at his feral grin. “It makes me feel like you are paying me for a night or something -”

“I know. I like it. It’s sexy. You’re like my own personal whore-”

“Actually, you know what?” Tink pulled away from his grip, glaring. “I would rather just go home.”

Stomping out of the hotel as he tried to reason with her, she took a cab home. Belle was working late at her shop, due to be home any minute. Tink pulled on sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, knowing Belle would immediately comfort her in these clothes. She ignored his protests, his calls and texts on the couch and turned on Netflix.

Belle wasn’t in the apartment for more than a few minutes when she took a hard look at Tink’s appearance.

“Tink, are you alright? What happened?” Belle asked, sitting next to her on the couch. When she opened her arms, Tink fell into them sobbing, letting Belle comfort her.

“He’s such a creep. I can’t believe I ever even went on a date with him!”

“Well, I’m glad you never brought him over, the guy sounds like a piece of work.”

“Belle, you’re the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Tink nuzzled into her, Belle’s arms wrapping around her. “I love you.”

The words slipped out of Tink’s mouth before she really even realized, her body tensing in Belle’s embrace. Belle stroked her hair, pressing a kiss to Tink’s head.

“Oh, I love you too,”

Belle said, completely oblivious. Tink sighed, pulling away. Walking to her bedroom, she pulled out the locket and brought it to Belle, placing it in her palm.

“I found this on my walk the other day, and I’ve been meaning to give it to you. It reminds me of you. Anyway, I gotta crash. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tink gave a weak wave, and went to her bedroom to cry.

Belle examined the necklace, it’s silver gleam beautiful even in the dim light of Netflix on their TV screen. It was shaped like a book, but the silver inlay had been damaged, scratched and rubbed. There also seemed to be a clasp similar to a locket, but it was jammed shut tightly. She placed it in her jewelry box and headed to bed herself.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Will was only slightly surprised when he found that he did indeed get along with Killian, Emma’s prediction ringing true. Her prediction did not include the two annoying her constantly, or the affection they bestowed to make up for it.

“Emma, love, you have to admit it was funny -” Killian’s eyes were filled with laughter at her attempts to bite back a smile, unwilling to try and break her wavering angry face. 

Will was on the floor in stitches, unable to speak. They’d rigged a scarecrow out of washed up items and a bird pole, Emma attacking the thing like a linebacker as she returned home. “You- “ Will wheezed, “You flew at it,” he laughed, holding his stomach. “You punched the poor sod right where his brain would be if he’d gotten to Oz!”

She couldn’t help the smile finally spreading across her face and the laughter that bubbled up in her chest. After all, she felt she owed Will this, these moments of levity as time marched forward without stopping. He’s been persistent lately about asking what came after. It was hard for them to remain cagey, the truth something they were unable to form words for. 

“The only thing I can say, is that there’ll be changes here.” Emma had said, wistfully one night when Will’s persistence had pushed through their silence.

“Changes?” he asked, watching Killian skip stones into the sea of nothing.

“Yes,” she said simply. In times like this, Will could see the amazing changes that Killian had brought to her, her body no longer rigid lines, lips no longer down turned. She was relaxed, and almost glittered with the bright smile he brought to her face. “Things are going to be different - us coming back here. It’s not something that’s been done before, in this place. It changes things.”

Killian returned to her side, arm curving around her tightly. She nuzzled into his frame, and Will felt the pangs of homesickness for Belle again. He missed her, and the feeling of her pressed against his chest. They sat in silence for a time, listening to the lapping sound of what Killian had dubbed, “Loch Less”.

Killian's voice was soft as he addressed Will, Emma dozing on his chest.

“She's never been good with change.” He stroked her arms affectionately and Will sighed. He understood, change meant adapting yet again. “Angels are going to be mixing in with us, watching the process here, relearning small miracles. Apparently, this place has been forgotten and on autopilot for a while.”

“What does that mean for everyone here?” Will asked, anxiety sitting heavily on his shoulders now.

Killian shrugged. “All I know is that we'll have new tools and abilities to help, and those who choose to stay can pass between the planes without trouble. If Emma and I wanted to, we could go back. We could visit Valhalla, The Underworld, another in between like this, or the thousand other versions of paradise in the universe. It's like a passport, and the chosen Guardians here get one.”

“Oh.” Will sat in stunned silence. What was there to say? He’d survived his entire life by running from one place to the next and finally found an uneasy peace here. It was nothing compared to the peace he’d found with Belle, but what was gone was gone.

Emma stirred against Killian’s side, blinking up at him. The pair smiled together, conspiratorially, before Emma let out a yawn.

“It'll be… I think I might actually like this change. Who knows. Maybe we might be able to find a decent bar in the entirety of the afterlife.”

“Oi, please, I am tellin’ the first soddin’ angel I see to send that we can't get drunk straight to corporate.”

They roared with laughter, the world they'd adjusted to now both very big and so much smaller.

The world didn't change immediately, but as small changes occurred Will felt the newness of things like a lightning strike hitting him in the forehead. It began with the sky turning a light blue one day, what might have been so slight a change when he was alive now a giant neon sign, the Guardians initially almost grinding to a halt. Color returned to their afterlives, stunning and resolute, no gray or muted sight on the horizon.

Regina sobbed into her splayed hands near Loch Less, a purple, pink and gold sunrise was blooming over the sparkling water, a smile of awestruck disbelief across her dark lips.

Days passed, and in the evening as the day ended, a strange arch appeared in front of the Guardians block of homes. Made of some shimmering mixture of gold, pearl, copper and wrought iron, it twisted in complex patterns in two spiraled columns. Where they ended, a fence in the same material up over ten feet tall connected, their access completely cut off unless they stepped through the gateway. A plaque placed before the structure read in simple lettering, ‘Home Commute’.

A breeze blew through the air, followed by the sound of beating wings, an ungraceful thud nearby followed by a low expletive. Standing clumsily, a winged figure stood near the growing crowd of Guardians and cleared her throat. Several Guardians gasped, while Killian squinted at the woman’s form and robes, whispering something to Emma that Will couldn’t hear.

“Alright, um,” The woman began, straightening her back and smoothing perfectly soft curls, her wings fluttering. “I’m part of the new administration being set up here, an angel I guess you could call us, and will be explaining some changes.” She gestured a pale arm to the archway, with a slight smile. “This is a portal of sorts to your new homes. All of your belongings have been moved, and only Guardians have access to what lies beyond with the ability to come back. What lies through there depends on you. If you have any questions, ask me or you can find all of us at the new administration building. My designation- er. My name is Anastasia. Sorry. Still getting used to this whole, imitating thing.”

Regina sucked in a breath and went to step forward as the crowd watched anxiously, but Hopper pushed past her and disappeared through the shimmering veil. The crowd moved past, Regina next followed by many more, Ruby and a newly minted Graham all moving through until only a few milled around, Killian and Emma talking to the angel as Will made his way to them.

“So, you lot aren’t going to be bloody glowing masses of light and fire that look like Tolkien’s Sauron?” Killian was asking, as Emma elbowed him in the ribs.

“I am afraid I don’t recognize that reference, but yes. We have been designated - I mean, given, forms similar to yours and… emotions.” Anastasia noticeably tensed, her smile faltering briefly. “We chose this willingly, and can opt out at anytime if this experiment doesn’t work.”

“You haven’t ever had emotions?” Emma asked, looking concerned. “How are you going to -”

“I was a guardian angel before. I always wanted to understand human behavior. This is the closest I’ll ever get.” Anastasia’s face fell. “We went through some simulations to be here. I’m not a loose cannon.”

Will looked at her, and offered a slight smile. “Simulations eh? Well, if you need someone to talk to about how awful emotions are, I’ll be happy to commiserate.”

Anastasia blinked, cocking her head. “I don’t think that will be an issue, but thank you…?”

“Will. Name’s Will Scarlet.”

“Thank you Will.”

“Another question, Killian and I, we want to stay together wherever we go when we walk through that thing.” Emma gestured, and Killian took her other hand, pressing himself closer to her with a soft smile. “Will it take us back to where we were before? Will we still see our friends like the old neighborhood?”

“You’ll see. And yes, you can be together.” Anastasia shrugged. “Que Sera Sera.”

Emma smiled, pulling Killian away in a run, laughing as they disappeared through the archway. Will was left standing with the angel alone rocking on his heels with his hands in his pockets. He nodded a goodbye to Anastasia, moving towards the arch with slight apprehension.

“Hey!” Anastasia called after him, and he turned. She ran up to him with a slight smile, curls bouncing. “Thank you for your offer. I mean it, I am filled with gratitude- it’s pleasant.”

“Alright then… Have a good night.” Will laughed nervously. He stepped through the portal and into the unknown.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

There was a feeling, first.

For Hopper, it was the feeling of rightness, of being at home. The feeling of his hand on the door knob after a long day on the crisis line, the noise on the other side finally bringing a smile to his face. The thumping and whines grew louder as the handle turned, and Pongo landed on his chest in a blur of black and white. The dog landed sloppy kisses on his face as Hopper laughed, hugging the dog he had missed so much, taking him for a walk in the park.

For Regina, it was the feel of freedom. A modern and sleek apartment with polished white and black marble set against crimson was on the other side, but that didn’t matter. She ran through an orchard, the low trees covered in red apples that hung like giant rubies in the sun. The barn at the end of the path smelled like sweet hay, the horse inside waiting for her fully dressed. He was more beautiful than she had imagined, muscle under dark hair and a lone star of white on his forehead. Mounting the saddle, she took off at a gallop into the dawn.

Ruby and Graham tumbled through a canvas tent into a dense forest, pine needles blanketing the floor in greens and orange. Starlight sparkled over a fire pit, the Milky Way like a bright scar across the sky. Wolves howled in the distance, a clearing showing a view of mountains rising to touch dancing green and blue as the aurora borealis circled them. Graham twirled her to the sounds of the night, both of their laughter adding to the symphony. For them, it was the feeling of togetherness.

Will came back after the first night to a group of people who were still waiting: the missing people in their lives too important to enjoy their paradise fully, or the draw of healing those with unfinished business a reminder of who they had once been.

Regina looked different, jeans and lighter makeup complimenting hair that was no longer sleek but wavy and windswept. Hopper grinned, his sport jacket covered in white dog hair, animatedly talking to Ruby and Graham as the former picked pine needles out of her hair. Killian and Emma were the same, but listened to the others with rapt attention.

The next evening, Will asked everyone over to a place he'd discovered: an afterlife bar. He'd found it in the strange way of serendipitous travel that was the norm, he had thought about it while walking through the streets of his paradise with a single minded concentration.

“It's kind of a trip, it's all sorts of afterlife specialty service members hanging out, and it's got a bunch of unending rooms with different themes. When I was there last night, a group of valkyries were taking shots while The Morrigan, Charon and Anubis were playing darts. Apparently, Anubis plays live music on the weekends and has a penchant for Billy Joel.”

They stepped through the gateway and into the bar, amazed by the diverse beings enjoying the night off, and laughing at the amazing alcoholic beverages they could order.

“What's a ‘Warm Towel After Getting Out of the Shower’ like?” Ruby asked the bartender, a shimmering silver woman, who was vaguely opaque. The woman waved a hand.

A pale blue drink in a shot glass appeared before Ruby, and she threw it back, her eyes widening.

“And I can get drunk on these?” When the woman gave a nod before taking care of another person's order, Ruby pumped her fist, ordering a ‘First Drop in a Roller Coaster’.

Killian and Emma moved to watch the darts game, eventually joining as players and discussing Joel and Springsteen.

Regina danced while Hopper was in an intense conversation with a large, portly, bald headed man swathed in crimson and gold, sipping on a lotus flower.

Will, in an another desperate attempt not to feel so alone felt alone again. Glancing around, a lone woman sat at a bar counter, playing a game of slots. She looked familiar, a bowl of cherries next to her she dug through carefully before choosing one and chewing carefully as sevens lined up in a row. Taking a drag on her cigarette through its long stemmed holder, she puffed out a large sigh of pale pink smoke as the slots lined up again.

Will drew closer and realised it was Anastasia, hair pinned up and lips pressed in a thin line.

“Er. Having fun there, boss?” Will asked, and she started, before plastering a fake smile on her face.

“Yes.” Her lips twitched downward, and she dropped the facade, face falling. “Alright, no. I… I'm really terrible at this whole faking being happy thing. Actually, I'm pretty bad at all of these emotions. They're… they aren't anything like I expected.”

“No?” Will pulled up a stool next to hers, and she waved the machine away. “Can I ask you something then?”

“Sure, I suppose. As long as it isn't about God, or the nature of the universe.” She took another drag of the cigarette in its pearl colored holder, waving a hand dismissively through the smoke. It smelled floral, similar to roses and lavender. “No one but the highest of the higher ups really knows much about all of that.”

“Fair enough.” Taking a breath, he puffed out air and spoke quickly through his nerves. “Why did you choose this? Why would you ever choose -”

“Jealousy, I guess, or loneliness fueling it. Watching the other creations of the universe and its dimensions have greater gifts, being able to love or not, the freedom of instability and unknowing. I could not want, had no way to express it, but now I know that I did.”

“And now? How do you feel now?”

“Truthfully?” She leveled her gaze at Will, and the depth of the sadness there felt like a cold finger down his neck. “I'm frightened. I want stability again, and I feel so much more alone than I ever have. I… The others have all found something, a bigger purpose and understanding of their roles, but I just… I saw how huma- how all of you were on earth. I was a guardian. I want… I'm envious of…”

“You want a life.” Will shrugged, taking her cigarette and taking a drag himself. It tasted like a summer's dusk at the beach, sticky fingers holding a popsicle while fireworks started, flowers growing near a blanket of soft cloth over sand. It made him feel dizzy.

“The astounding irony of wanting to be alive while shepherding those who crave the same thing is -”

“I don't blame you,” Will whispered. “It was pretty amazing, while it lasted.”

“Tell me about it? Your life, I mean. What made it so good?” Anastasia asked, looking at him with something akin to a mix of desperation and wonder.

“I was in love,” he said simply, beginning the story of his life.

When he had finished days later, Ana (she wanted him to call her that) , took his hand and led him wordlessly into the new management building. They walked down winding corridors until they were in a hall with a large metal set of double doors, a check in kiosk at the side where a woman sat primly.

“Mally. Is it ready? I have someone who wants to test it,” Ana said, her face unreadable.

“Go ahead, it should be. How many?” The blonde woman behind the counter asked primly.

“Once weekly at maximum, for a lifetime at my discretion.” The other blonde raised an eyebrow, but said nothing only pushing a stack of papers attached to a clipboard on the top of the kiosk counter as a response. Anastasia nodded and took it, reading it over before handing it to Will.

“What -”

“Read it and sign it. No mentions of life after or anything that could upset or mentally derail someone. This is supposed to be pleasant and healthy.”

“Al - Er, Alright.” Will flipped through the paperwork. In block letters at the top of the first page, ‘DREAM VISIT’ was printed in full caps, followed by a long set of stipulations. Reading through, his heart beat wildly. “Is this what I think it is?”

Anastasia just smiled a small, secretive, grin as an answer.

Walking through the metal doors into Autumn sunlight, Anastasia watched from a distance as Will approached Belle, their reunion sweet.

After the first several visits, Belle finally asked if he was happy, if he had found peace.

Looking back at Anastasia, her still form loosened so much more as time eased by, as he introduced her to his friends, and as he grew to understand that Belle would always be his first love, he nodded.

“Yeah, love. I am pretty damn happy.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” Liam said, surprised at his own calm. He picked at the worn wood of his small childhood home’s table, marveling at just how tiny the space was as an adult. He stirred his tea, not willing to look up.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. It does.” He finally looked up, meeting his brother’s stare. Killian sat across from him, so remarkably real and relaxed with a bemused expression on his face. “I want to know that you’re real so what I have to say matters.”

“It would matter regardless of whether or not I was real, but yes, I am. Bloody well took long enough to secure this visit so I could finally yell at you. They don’t let just anyone do this.” Killian crossed his arms, cocking his head slightly, his hair falling in his eyes. Liam prepared himself for the blame he deserved.

“Alright,” he whispered. “I’ll do anything to have you forgive me, I -”

“Oh, I forgive you.” Killian’s tone was light, no accusations or remnants of their last fight. He raised a finger, grinning. “With conditional terms, my dear idiot brother.”

“What.” Liam blinked.

“Conditional terms.” He drew out the words, smirking. Liam felt a long unused impulse to smack his brother rise in his chest. “You’re going deaf in your old age.”

“This isn’t real -”

“One.” Killian ticked off a finger, looking mildly irritated at Liam’s outburst. “For fuck’s sake, give Elsa the bloody ring. Watching you make excuses not to is killing me, and honestly, if I lose another bet to Emma or Will on what day you propose…” He ran a hand through his hair, ending the motion with a scratch behind his ear. “That’s beyond the point I guess, but more importantly, just marry her before she realizes what a useless git you are. She's living with you, isn't she? Why wouldn't she marry you? She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“I can agree to that, regardless of whoever Will is, but this is just my subconscious -”

“Stop being pretentious for a moment of your life.” Killian rolled his eyes, but his face softened. He raised two fingers. “Two. Stop beating yourself up over what happened to me. It wasn’t your fault, nothing was. I’m happy, and you should try it for a change.” His voice quieted, cracking slightly. “I really do forgive you, I heard every apology you made to me. I heard you say were proud of me, Liam. You have to stop carrying this guilt.”

Liam hadn’t noticed when he started crying, the dream around him vivid beyond his imagination’s ability.

“Three.” Killian was openly crying now too, still holding his gaze level. “I have a favor to ask. Grab a beer with Nemo. Apologize to him too and put in a request that David gets a promotion within the police department. You owe it to him, and Emma.”

“I will, I just… I wish I knew this was real. I don’t understand how or why -”

“I can prove it to you, but you’ll have to trust me. For once you’re going to have to listen to me.” Killian swiped at his eyes, and smiled standing up. He extended a hand to Liam, pulling him into a hug. Clapping each other on the back, they seperated. “This is my proof, and it isn’t going to make sense right away. Propose as soon as possible, and get married as soon as you can. You need to be married by Christmas.”

“That’s only a few months away, Elsa won’t -”

“She may not be keen on it at first, but she’ll warm up to it. I can’t be any less cryptic, as annoying as that is.” He looked up at the ceiling exasperated. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of bloody rules in the afterlife.”

The door in the kitchen that lead to the green fields Killian and Liam had run in as children opened, a breeze blowing through. His younger, forever younger and never again little brother, looked towards him, looking happy. Liam at once knew that he wasn't dreaming. The sight so long absent and so achingly wonderful it was impossible for him to conjure even asleep. “My time is up. Goodbye, Liam. Remember my terms. And hey…” raising an arched eyebrow over watery eyes and a half hearted smirk, Killian gave a small salute. “You're going to have a wonderful life.”

Killian disappeared out the door, Emma waiting in the wind swept grass, their fingers intertwining as Liam’s mind returned to sleeping darkness.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The party, all and all, was a flop.

In theory, Tink had it all right, everything she'd studied and read on how to throw a party combining with the few high school or university events she'd attended. Invites on social media and on paper, word of mouth shouted down hallways at coworkers. A theme to break the ice for people and encourage them to drink. Decorations for said theme, Luau designated the winner and cheapest option. Tink dragging rocks to paint like coconuts from the apartment garden for even more of a tropical feel. An appropriate amount of chips, dips, beer, wine coolers, and smoked meats set somewhere convenient.

On paper, everything was perfect.

In their apartment, everything was quiet. Tink shifted uncomfortably in her grass hula skirt, while Belle sipped a beer in her Hawaiian shirt.

Belle had closed the shop for this, hoping to meet Tink’s coworkers at her urging. She'd been nervous at the prospect of talking to anyone, dating anyone, especially when their neighbor had paid her attention… She simply needed something real. With not one prospect attending, she felt a sickening relief.

“I can't even get fucking laid throwing a party with leis. I can't believe that no one came! I am so sorry you closed up for this. God, I'm sorry I missed a shift for this.” Tink ripped off the flowered necklace and skirt, moving around the apartment in a whirlwind of anger.

Belle only nodded. “I'm going to go get the mail. I'll be right back.” She set the empty bottle down on the coffee table.

Stepping out into the hallway, she bumped right into Mr. Alefire, a envelope slipping from his hand.

“Oh!” Belle looked up into his eyes, a flash of anger in his eyes melting into a strained smile. “I'm so sorry, I just -” She picked up the envelope and smiled, another poem.

“No, I'm sorry. I should have… You're not usually home on Fridays-”

“I'm having a party actually,” Belle smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She was surprised by her own boldness, but stepped closer. “You should come inside.”

Something flickered across his face, an eyebrow twitch and half smirk turning into a smile with all of his teeth.

“I'd love to. I'm Brian by the way.”

She led him into the apartment, Tink away in her room as they chatted. When Tink’s door opened, Brian froze in place, Tink continuing to talk a mile a minute.

“So I guess the majority of surgery is on call and the nurses are all at some bar, so if you want we can jus-” Her lips parted into an ‘O’, surprise and shock written across her features. “Neal? Neal what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Wait, Tink, this is Brian our neighbor -”

“No, that is Neal Gold of Gold Pharmaceuticals, and of the worst date ever, what do you mean he's our neighbor?”

“Neal Gold?” Belle went pale, leaning on a chair. “Oh God, no, no -” She turned to the door in panic, where Neal stood, an ominous click echoing as he locked their door.

“You fucking bitch. You even shackled up with another gold digging bitch, just like the spoiled whore you are. My father gave you everything.” His voice came out in a growl, as he cracked his neck. He slashed a knife, cutting Tink on the neck before she could move away.

Belle pushed Tink to her bedroom, telling her to move, as Neal pushed aside the tables making his way towards them. She fell into her room, scooting back on her hands as Neal approached, giving her a harsh kick. Her body rolled, head reeling at the pain in her side as Neal straddled her waist to press his hands into her windpipe.

“Papa says to keep you alive, but he's not here… I say you suffer somewhere until you realize how good you had it? Wanna try being buried alive in swamp muck? I'll actually pull you out though, letting you breathe.” He let her take a few rattling breaths before closing his hands on her throat again. “See? We can play all night -”

Neal flew back, his face pale as Belle’s vision cleared of black spots. He looked terrified, shaking with eyes wide, scrambling away from her.

“You're dead! We killed you, we buried you in the wetlands, that swamp, you're dead, you aren't real -” Neal was shouting at something Belle couldn't see, unable to stop coughing or lift her neck. She could only watch him crawl backwards, his terror making him oblivious to Tink behind him. She held her neck, smashing a rock painted like a coconut into his skull.

“Your fake name sounds like ‘Ball Fire’ you weird prick.” Tink panted, pulling her cellphone out to call the police. Belle shook her head, taking out her own phone to dial her contact in the police department, Detective Nolan, about a lead into Will’s disappearance.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“He's dead, he's dead and I'll get her too, you don't get to have anyone else after abandoning your family…” Neal mumbled again and again, Detective Nolan’s telling him that he has the right to remain silent going unheeded. Whether it's the rock he took to the skull or his own underlying madness, Gold had cracked.

“And how do you know this man?” He asked Belle, long taken off their suspects list before it had gone cold.

“My ex-husband's son. I think… I think he may have…” Her tears started, and David nodded. They hadn't been able to link Gold to it before. Now…

It took only days, Neal caving easily, spilling misdeeds and crimes for hours. David found that Gold Industries protects a wetland area that Neal swears is a dumping ground, the posted signs keeping away any prying eyes. No hunting, no trespassing, only scattered remains of people Gold needed gone.

The warrant had come through as the cold had set in, mud settling into firmer ground. His team was cold and wet within the first half hour of searching, squelching socks lowering morale as they trekked further.

His feet slid in the mud, crunching on a branch. He turned his flashlight back to look at his stuck boot, finding the branch broken sharply like a serrated spear near his pantleg, a damp piece of cloth clumped around it. The branch was a dull gray in the light, and David could see the skull next to it clear enough now to know that this is no branch.

This was where one Mr. Gold directed his son Neal to bury one Will Scarlet -

But as in life, Will refused to be buried, reaching out for light.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

As the SWAT unit descended on Gold Industries, R. Gold attempted to flee, shooting at an officer. He was killed as cops follow in pursuit, his car a mangled wreck as he burned, skin blistering like scales. He died suffering, a death in flame.

Neal is killed in prison, his spoiled nature and self sure arrogance making him cocky in a fight. Although he wins, he forgets that people run in packs. He is found dead in his bed one morning, strangled, cameras blocked by a group of men who refuse to sell their own out.

Will asked Anastasia about Devils one day, her head in his lap as they watch another Back to the Future movie. She was eating popcorn, her face losing its amused smile.

“Are you asking if there's a Hell, Will?” she asked quietly, the movie pausing with a quick wave of her hand.

“Not exactly. More if there are creatures meant to torment. You've pointed out demons before, but that's more…”

“There are Demons and Devils, and just like us, they're made of belief. If a person believes they're a bad person or enough people believe they are, the deep root of the horrors they commit cannot be left unexposed. There's not always a wrong, but there is a right, an understanding, a covenant of the promises you make, ignore, or defy. In the thousands of worlds beyond life that exist, if yours is filled with demons, suffering, devils, war, or pain… Isn't that hell anyway? If you must break your covenant, is it worth the means to an end?”

“None of your answers are ever easy,” he whispered, his fingers gently threading in her hair. Anastasia let out a hum.

“The universe is always changing, growing, making something new. It's never easy to explain, and I'm OK with that.” She shrugged.

“You'd think of all the things that you might struggle with, having emotions, change might be something that throws you off.” Will looked away, and she gently put a hand to his cheek, pulling him to look at her as she sat up.

“You'd be surprised.” Her face was close, and he could practically taste her breath, smelling of her preferred sweets and popcorn butter. Her eyes were soft, and full of the awe she had for everything new, everything he had shown her or she'd discovered. “Change is the only constant thing in these places. Change is what made it so I could want to…”

Delicately, she pressed her lips against his, cupping his face. To his surprise, he didn't feel guilt or shame like he'd thought when he pressed back, fingers tangling in her hair with a sigh. Belle would be happy, and he would wait, his promise kept. She'd told him to go, told him to move on and he had told her the same.

His heart felt light, despite the pain that he recognized would always be there. He broke away smiling, laughing at Ana’s dazed face.

“Made you won't snog a man breathless during a movie? I thought you were invested, not just luring me here for Netflix ‘n chill,” he teased, tickling her gently so she flopped back into his lap giggling.

“I have no idea what that is, but supposedly you are somewhat good looking, even to someone who used to be pure divine radiance.” He kissed her again through another bout of her giggles, dipping his tongue to slide along her bottom lip.

When he pulled away and left her breathless and flushed, he gave her a cheeky smirk.

“‘An how about that for ‘divine radiance’?” He chuckled, getting a swift punch in the arm as an answer.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Peace was something Belle had given up on. She holed herself up in her new studio, the four locks on the door a cold comfort now that the Gold line was completely ended. The company was taken over by another executive, Zelena, who paid Belle a hefty settlement to sign a non-disclosure agreement.

“Just about the company, pet. Blast the Gold family name until only scorched earth is left, but keep the company separate.” Belle nodded, and Zelena smiled, adding with emphasis, “We're rebranding.”

Belle accepted, wishing she didn’t remember her own memories.

Remington’s home was left to Belle, his will and testament not updated or left as a cruel joke. Refusing to step foot back into her nightmares, she sold it.

Watching the news, she saw Will’s death discussed in forensic detail and a grim faced reporter talking about how Remington’s final moments were regret. It was too much. His last moments weren’t regret. They were cowardice. The only person who should have felt regret was Will, knowing his fate as shovel after shovel of dirt was thrown on top of him.

The sad gray haired doctor on the news had said he’d been most likely buried alive, in an act of true brutality. Belle’s nightmares were filled with handfuls of mud, fingers cold in the packed earth as she tried to claw upwards for breath. Occasionally a hand found hers and pulled, the familiarity of Will’s rough palms filling her with hope, until she woke right before she saw his face. Sleeping became a duty, as did everything else.

Belle wondered idly why she bothered to live. A dark part of her brain whispered thoughts, intruding on any activity she did. Belle grew used to its presence, a friend in the gloom that told her she could easily stop the world around her. Will appeared in her dreams telling her that she was wrong, the world needed her, she'd promised him to move on. The darkness was louder than his voice, it’s thundering whisper left nothing but a numb ache.

The ache pulled on her soul, heavy and cold. That is, until light exploded around Belle one morning. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.” Tink grinned, “You and I have plans today, shopping for Ariel's wedding. You're my plus one.”

Belle could see the fading scar on Tink's neck, and her smile was blinding. At the sight of her, she pulled the blanket on her bed up and around her again. Tink climbed into the bed, the weight of the mattress shifting while she struggled to get under the blanket with her.

Once underneath, she simply held Belle, letting her cry into her chest. Belle looked up at her, pushing away a chunky lock of blonde hair.

“I'm so sorry, Tink. I just…” Belle looked down, playing with the sheets underneath. “I couldn't. I didn't - Gold just took everything from me, and I couldn't. I couldn't stay and watch you suffer because me. Will, my Gideon, I killed them. I couldn't do that to you because I…”

Tink kissed her forehead gently,

“They won't hurt you, us anymore. They can't. It's up to you to believe that, believe in yourself and… Believe in me. Believe in us.” Tink looked at Belle with soft eyes, trying to come up with words that expressed just how much she missed her, how important she was in her life, how much she loved her.

Belle didn't need the words. She pressed her lips to Tink’s, still crying, whispering everything that needed to be said.

“I love you so much.”

Therapy helped, but Tink felt Belle needed someplace new, a completely fresh start with all of the trimmings. When the chance came in the form of a clinic in the French countryside, it didn't take much convincing to get Belle to come along.

They packed their apartment and all of its plants into a house that Belle picked, an old French grain mill that she painstakingly turned into a library and café, French culture suiting her. In the casual front of their home it smells like old books, antiques, paint, chalk and cafe au lait, lilacs drifting on the breeze.

Will still walks with her sometimes, and they will always love each other. It never stops hurting when the dreams end, but the best balm for it is Tink’s steady breathing next to her in their bed.

They marry in the summer a few years later, the town doctor and the book keeper that smells like paint and coffee beans, white dresses with yellow and green rain boots, bouquets of lilac and lavender. They serve absinthe, lemonade, coffee and lavender filled aviations, the town clapping to the band as they celebrate so late into the night even the fireflies have gone to bed.

Tink’s contract ends as a new adventure begins, this time on the Ivory Coast. It's much more dangerous than the previous job, but Belle is a fierce protector. When they move back to France, they have two children in tow, Emiliè and Jean. Both were barely alive when Tink first held them, no mother to speak of. Both are now full of life, chasing chickens around the mill’s courtyard on their toddler legs.

Belle takes the newfound peace back where she feels at home, pouring out the pain of the past into words. At first she's afraid there's too many, so afraid of how much loss rests in the document. After a perfunctory read from Zelena who confirms that it should be acceptable legally, Belle lets an editor read her story.

‘Gideon’ is a bestselling debut, the only one she has. It gets rave reviews, the poignant story of a mob wife and the loss of her child sitting for weeks in the top ten. Belle never writes about him again. The pain won't dry like the ink has, but someone knows. The world knows.

She writes children's books instead, heading Giddy’s Love, a foundation running second hand bookstores and giving free books wherever possible. Tink retires to raise their children, and they live in the mill as happily as they can.

Will visits one night, a rare thing now that she's older. Jean is at a friend's house playing some video game and Emiliè is asleep in her room. She knows this, knows Tink is asleep next to her and she hasn't left the house, but this feels like the warm embrace of an old friend, and it is when he kisses her cheek, his smile the same as the day she last saw him.

“So.” His eyes are soft, and his hand is warm in her own as they sit on a porch under a prairie sunset. Fireflies wink, and a blonde woman dressed in jeans and a cream sweater sits next to Will, her head on his shoulder. Belle feels no jealousy when her hair tumbles over the white of his button up shirt, the sleeves are rolled up and her hand is resting on his arm lovingly. Belle knows this is right, Tink has her other hand in the world where they are in a bed together, her hand warm and small as she sleeps.

“So,” Belle replies.

“Are you happy, love?” Will asks, and the look he gives her of hopeful acknowledgement says that he clearly knows the answer, that he is just here to hear her say it.

“This isn't goodbye, is it?” Belle answers instead, disconcerted.

“Won't never be a goodbye, even if you don't see me like this,” Will says, squeezing her hand harder. “Can't be rid of me that easy.”

She laughs, but knows that when she wakes, there will be trails of tears on her cheeks.

“Then yes. I'm happy.”

He beams, and when she wakes to soft kisses from Tink, her wife's worry evident on her face, Belle can only smile at the warmth from the kiss on her forehead that still lingers.

“You have a bad dream, Nerd? I told you King before bed would give you nightmares.”

“No. I had a great dream. It was just a happy ending that caught me off guard, made me feel emotional.”

“You're a sentimental weirdo,” Tink teases, brushing a kiss along Belle’s neck, and another along her collarbone.

“There are worse things to be.” Belle smiles, and Tink hums in agreement until Belle’s fingers catch at the wetness between her thighs, turning the soft sound into a moan.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Liam followed Killian's advice to the letter, hoping for it to be in anyway real. He'd had a drink with Nemo, recommended David's promotion to detective. Nemo had been surprised, another officer he'd been considering had given him a bad feeling, so the decision had been left up in the air. The promotion ended up being fortuitous, as Detective Nolan closed a series of cold cases that lead to a major drug smuggling bust.

The ring he'd given Elsa on a snowy November day had left her breathless, her ecstatic grin warming him against the snow filled air. He'd begged her to marry him quickly, and at first she'd been resistant. After Thanksgiving, she had abruptly changed her mind. The wedding was beautiful, consisting of a few friends, drinks and food.

Elsa had looked lovely in a modern blue dress, the skirt long and shimmering. She glowed, hair in a wild braid. Liam had never been happier then when he'd carried her over the threshold of the cabin they rented for Christmas Eve. They sat by the fireplace, watching the flames flickering until early Christmas morning.

Liam thought idly about his brother's words, half lost now in the haze of his joy.

“Should we go skiing? I don’t know if I feel up to it, I could just lay here with you all day.” Elsa had whispered later in the morning, body draped over his in the large bed.

“I suppose we could. Or we could head down to the lodge and have breakfast. My wife gets grumpy when she doesn’t eat.” Liam grinned.

“I bet it’s hard to put up with you on an empty stomach.” Elsa giggled.

“Well, I never. Some Christmas spirit this is.” Liam leaned up to kiss her, pulling himself to a sitting position. Throwing on their clothes, they walked down to the lodge. After a sumptuous breakfast, Elsa had felt slightly ill from eating too much of the huge holiday brunch the lodge provided. They made their way to the lobby, Elsa starting to pale slightly.

“I’m going to take the shuttle into town and buy some Tums or antacid,” Elsa murmured. “I hope something is open.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Liam asked, looking up from his phone.

“No. It’s fine, I’ll be back in just a minute.” Elsa kissed his cheek, heading with the small group of people to get in a shuttle van. She waved happily, slouched sweater covering her mittened hands, the bright white knitted pom pom on the top of her hat bobbing.

A half hour rolled by as he read through his investment documents he’d put off, then with a glance at the clock he realized an hour went by. The sky outside had gone from a overcast white to deep gray clouds, gusts of icy wind causing the pine trees to bend almost to the point of snapping. And there, in his gut, suddenly was the weight of knowing something was wrong. He called Elsa without success, no answer as the rings continued even on his third call, her cheery voicemail greeting him. It crackled, and he heard a voice that chilled him to the marrow of his bones.

In a hiss of static, Killian’s voice. “Hurry, Liam.”

Running to his car, his keys luckily still in his pocket, he drove down the mountain towards town. Sirens, and lights greeted him, the shuttle on its side smoking against a rocky cliff side. A small car dangled precariously against the metal railing on the other side.

Elsa hadn't made it down the mountain.

Liam called Elsa’s phone, listening to the rings as he parked his car, running towards the accident. An officer stopped him, barely able to keep Liam at bay as they slipped on the slick asphalt.

“Sir you can’t -” The officer yelled, but Liam’s focus was pinpointed ahead, adrenaline racing at the sight of a bright white pom pom hat laying in the middle of the road. There was no stopping him, picking up that hat and yelling her name.

The bus driver sat being interviewed nearby, talking to the officer loudly, his voice shaking.

“So, this broad gets out of her seat, walks up the aisle to me, and starts screaming to ‘stop the bus right now’ just on a tear about it, telling me to stop while her braid is coming out of her little puff ball hat! So instinctively I stopped, but not fast enough because that woman’s car was in the road and I still hit it. That hill down is just too slick. I dunno how that lady knew, but man she took a wallop when we slid… her sister flagged down help for her, luckily, so she should be loaded up soon, and I want to thank her - Hey, you! You have her hat!” The man pointed at Liam and his heart dropped, feet thudding like the sound of his heart as he ran.

An EMT wheeled off a stretcher, the blue of her sweater barely visible under the blanket. He sprinted, pushing past more officers and personnel, scrambling to get to the ambulance she was being loaded into.

“Hey, who the hell -” A curly haired EMT said, his presence imposing as he pressed a needle into Elsa’s pale skin. She didn’t stir.

“Elsa? Elsa, love, talk to me -”Liam pushed past the man, who threw him aside like he was nothing. “Are you related to her?” The EMT glared, and Liam shook his head, trying to choke out words. “My wife. She’s my wife, why isn’t she -” “Calm down, she’s unconscious and took a bad knock to her head.” The man reached across Liam to slam the door shut, signalling to the driver to go. “Possible skull fracture, but without X-rays… ” Liam felt his throat close, watching Elsa lying on the stretcher, her body so small and silent just like -

He held his breath until his lungs burned, unable to think of her leaving him too soon. Instead he stroked Elsa’s hand, limp in his own. One of her nails was broken, her hand bruised badly on her right side, the left hand folded across her torso. Her ring still sparkled, and he reached to touch it, as the EMT left to check various supplies. The ambulance jerked around a corner, ice on the road sending the stretcher roughly into the wall. Elsa bounced, unwaking and Liam held her tightly as the EMT braced the stretcher with his own body. Liam focused on Elsa, the ambulance slipping down the mountain, watching her eyelids flutter open as she let out a low whimper. “I’m here, love. I’m here.”

Elsa’s voice was hoarse and slurred. “Liam?”

“Oh, God, Elsa you're alright. I was so scared, what happened?”

Elsa’s neck was in a brace, her face bruised and scratched. “I don’t?” she winced, reaching to touch her head. The EMT pulled her hand back down to her side, eyeing Liam. The ambulance began to move with a sudden lurch. 

“Make sure she doesn’t touch her head. I’ve got gauze packed on it, but she may try to take it off. I’m Anton, by the way, upfront is Leroy.” He paused, looking down at Elsa. “The shuttle slid sideways after the collision, so Elsa here probably just has a nasty concussion and maybe a broken bone or two.”

Liam let out a sob, kissing Elsa’s knuckles. She was going to be alright, there was no need for panic. Something wriggling in the back of his mind reminded him of Killian’s warning, but he dismissed his paranoia.

“Liam, I’m okay,” Elsa whispered, soothingly. “It’s okay. I’m just, tired. I’m really tired. And he won’t let me touch my head and it's itchy, and I was supposed to tell you but I’m so tired. I just want to sleep, and I think I hit my head, so I shouldn’t sleep because that can exacerbate brain injury and then I wouldn’t be able to tell you, I really need to tell you but I wasn't sure, but my head hurts and I want to nap. Please let me take off the bandage?” She closed her eyes as Anton shook his head at her, then returned to watch his monitors carefully. She pouted.

“Keep her awake please,” Anton said not looking up from his monitor screens, shaking her gently, getting a growl and glare back from Elsa. “Pain meds will kick in here shortly, but try to keep her awake.” 

“Elsa, darling, what are you supposed to tell me?” Liam stroked her cheek with one hand while the other held her hand firmly. “You didn’t have to-” 

“I'm not sure, and I'm anxious! I can’t tell you!” She giggled, and her hand reached up to her bandage again, his hand meeting hers before she could prod the slowly reddening gauze. “Hey, honey, I think I have a concussion. I’m really tired, but I hit my head and I think that I have a concussion.” 

“You did hit your head, but we’re going to get you help.”

“Oh. Good. Because I think I have a concussion, and I am really tired. Can I please take off my bandage, it’s really itchy. Liam?” Liam looked at her, watching the IV in her arm drip. “It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, though.” Anton chuckled lightly, listening to her ramble on with Liam nodding, keeping her awake as she described her concussion. The ambulance shook and jerked around a slippery turn, Liam bracing himself. 

They wound down the mountain, Liam occasionally pulling her hand away from the gauze on her head, stroking her fingers gently when they slipped on the quiet road into town, the hospital looming ahead under the mountain. 

“You’re not with any family for Christmas are you? Anyone we need to call?” Anton asked Liam, Liam shaking his head no and holding Elsa’s hand tighter. 

“No. She’s my only family, and I’m hers.” Anton’s eyes widened fractionally, but he nodded. They skidded into the hospital, pushing her on a stretcher into the ER. 

A nurse approached him, holding Liam back. “Family only. You'll need to go get a visitor's pass, and we don't allow overnight visitors -”

“Not a problem - I'm her husband.” With a curt nod, she let him continue following Elsa as she was wheeled into a dim, yellow lit room and moved to a hospital cot. Elsa beckoned for him to sit next to her, and Liam was there in a moment as the flurry of staff in scrubs filtered in. 

“Hey, Liam?” Elsa whispered drowsily. “I think I have a concussion.” She pulled at her bandages again, and he stopped her with shaking hands until a nurse was leaning over her to study the gash.

“Elsa, love, don’t play with it - I think you’re going to need stitches,” Liam held her hand in his, trying to placate her as she huffed like a child. 

A nurse rattled off rapid fire questions to Elsa, who stared vacantly. “When were you born? What is your insurance carrier? Do you have any other pain?” 

“I think I have a concussion,” Elsa answered calmly. Liam did his best to fill in any blanks. 

“When was Elsa’s last menstrual cycle?” the nurse asked, and Elsa nodded slightly. 

“I have a concussion,” She said firmly, eyes drooping. 

“I don’t actually know, it’s been a while, I think -” LIam answered quietly, thinking back. 

“Is there a chance she could be pregnant?” Elsa smiled at that, looking at the nurse seriously as if concentrating, and Liam’s chest constricted as he sucked in breath. 

“I think I am quite pregnant, but I think I have a concussion.” Pointing to her purse, Liam picked it up and opened it. A bottle of Tums sat in the middle pocket, half empty. “I didn't need Tums, I needed a test. I wanted to make sure before I went skiing, in case -”

“In case you got hurt.”

“I'm sorry I lied,” Elsa continued in a whispered voice, the nurse wide eyed realized she needed to excuse herself. 

“Alright, the pain meds she’s on should be fine, we’ll keep an eye on her and do an ultrasound if need be after she rests a bit and gets more coherent. She definitely has a concussion, but no broken bones as far as we can tell without x-ray.” Liam’s mouth was too dry to try to answer, completely unable to respond to the news he just received, frozen as he held the bag in his hands. The nurse turned and left without any other questions.

Elsa’s eyes closed and she shook herself awake gently, looking at Liam’s hands. “I wasn't sure, but I was going to talk about it with you today, but I think I have a concus-” 

“Elsa,” he whispered quietly, looking up at her with a mixture of fear, adoration and wonder.

She chewed her lip, eyes glassy. “I love you Liam.”

The past months came back in acute detail. Elsa’s illness from overeating sweets on Halloween. Thanksgiving, when she had changed her mind, she had eaten more than half a pumpkin pie. Her increasing tiredness at work. At their wedding she had held glasses of champagne, but had she ever drank?

“I wanted to be married, try to do things sort of traditionally, like you said you wanted.” Her eyes avoiding his, she traced the pattern of the thin blanket the nurses had given her. He could see now that her figure had changed, but he had been oblivious. “I should have told you right away, but I just thought I was imagining things. I mean, you didn't notice anything... The ladies I worked with that have been pregnant were always nauseous, and I gained some weight, but the holidays, work stressing me out and planning a wedding - I thought if we got married I'd be less stressed. Then up here completely relaxed I felt so off…”

He kissed her laughing through tears, overjoyed as he kneeled one leg on her bed to press kisses to her cheeks. “Elsa, I am so happy, I’d be so happy - you were worried about telling me? Love, my darling, I could never be angry about this and bollocks to tradition-”

“I was more scared of having a child and something being wrong or you getting hurt, but now I'm hurt and sleepy,” Elsa slurred, her words blending together. “What if this hurt it? Everyone in my life was gone until you; now there's this vulnerable new life possibly coming and I'm so…”

Her body relaxed, eyes drooping shut. Liam's heart ached, the feelings she had processed alone heavy on his shoulders.

“Everything is going to be alright, Elsa. I promise. We're all going to be OK,” Liam whispered, placing another blanket over her body.

“How do you know?” Elsa murmured.

Killian’s smile and his fingers intertwined with Emma's flashed across his mind.

_“You're going to have a wonderful life.”_

“I just know. It's alright to be afraid, but wherever life is taking us next, it's going to be OK. I have a feeling that we won't need to worry anymore.”

“I like the sound of that very much.” Elsa smiled, letting herself fall asleep.

“Worry about something medical related?” asked a nurse as she sheepishly wheeled in a testing cabinet.

“No, no. Although, what would have happened if we weren't married?” Liam asked softly.

“The hospital is already on a backup generator, so you'd be sent somewhere else. Snow out here mean you probably wouldn't have seen your wife in days, possibly a week or two if it picked up and decided to blizzard. Luckily you two are married.”

“Yes… Lucky, that.” Liam laughed, holding Elsa’s hand in his own, her ring catching even the dim hospital lights.

Elsa finally coherently understands the test results the next evening, delighted over the news. They have poor signal, but after hours texts come rolling in congratulating them on their news - a clear indication that their announcement has gone through:

A picture of a glowing Elsa eating a heaping plate of Jello, as Liam held their child's first picture in his hands, both of them looking delighted.

A caption above read simply, “Her stomach round like a bowl full of jello, join us this Christmas in our hello. Baby Jones, to be born in May.”

Liam holds his daughter for the first time on the 12th of May, at seven in the morning on the dot. She's pink, and scrunch faced, and screaming in rage, but all Liam can see is his daughter. Later, he wishes that Killian could see her, could see him like this, could hold his niece that has auburn hair and a stubborn streak already. He tells Elsa, and she whispers about her sister, about her almost brother-in-law, both of them understanding the other.

“Anna wanted to name their child Grace if they got pregnant. I always joked that I hoped they'd marry first.” Elsa laughed, rocking their baby. They haven't chosen a name after combing books of baby names for months.

“Killian liked Aine, or Faith. Aine is our mum’s name, sort of an Irish nod to Anna,” Liam whispered into her hair.

“Aine Grace Jones. I kind of like that,” Elsa whispered. “Aine Jones. What do you think, my May flower?” Elsa ran her hand gently through the tuft of reddish hair on the newborn's head, watching her dramatic sigh of contentment.

“She has a flair for dramatics already, her uncle has blessed her with that trait.” Liam laughed quietly, and pressed a kiss to Elsa’s temple. “Aine Grace. You are so loved, and I can't wait to see how much joy you bring.”

A breeze floated through the room although no window was open, smelling like green grass, spring flowers and the sea. Liam and Elsa exchanged looks, no longer worried that Aine would never be known by those lost too early to them. If anything, they'd always be nearby, held in the cherished memories of the lives they'd lived.

If Liam could see truly, see through the sheer gossamer fabric that kept worlds apart from one another, he would see that his brother's memory was very much alive, watching with pride and adoration.

Killian squeezed Emma's hand in his, and they disappeared back to their little paradise.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Liam doesn't remember where or why or what as he comes back to himself at the bar. The TV is on, and there's a quiet buzz, but it's not crowded. Peeking past the bartender, he notices that the bar is fully stocked and decorated for what looks to be a large celebration.

“Excuse me, but am I going to be alright staying when there's going to be an event?” Liam asks the bartender, who turns as he's polishing a glass. The man smirks, and Liam immediately distrusts him. He’s also far too dressed up, wearing a dress shirt and vest, bow tie and tux jacket missing. 

“Yea, it'll be alright, I s’pose. Might have to pull some strings with the boss and the management, but s’not too much trouble. They both like me e’nuff.”

The man's accent grates on him, and he wishes for patience. Liam wishes for a lot more than that, actually, but it is a fruitless effort. The annoying man picks up a large red phone that Liam somehow missed looking over the bar, tossing him a menu as he dials. A label on the front reads, ‘Scarlet’.

Opening the menu, Liam's stomach rumbles. The choices look delicious, a large assortment of favorites of his, and thank goodness for that because when was the last time he ate? He feels ravenous.

“Yeah, I have a...” The bartender holds a hand over the receiver, and looks pointedly towards him.

“Uhhh?” Liam answers stupidly. The bartender rolls his eyes, grinning again, but hisses at him in a whisper.

“Your name, mate.”

“Oh, um, Liam.”

“I have a Liam here that wants to join the New Year's festivities tonight. Uh-huh. Yep. Uh-huh.” Cupping the receiver again, he sighs. “She's goin’ t’come down this way. Wants t’get a look at you. See if you are up t’snuff.”

“Oh, if it's that much trouble -” The bartender didn’t hear, ignoring him and back on the phone, absentmindedly twirling the cord.

“No, love. No, I bet you look stunning, come down and give me a look see even if this bloke needs to sod off. Mmmhm darling, see you soon.” Liam is bristling as the bartender hangs up the phone. “She'll be here shortly. Did you want to order?”

“Yes,” Liam answered curtly, patience thinning. He never had the patience for people like this, always struggled with levity until she was in his life. All the time in a thousand lives would never be enough, but time was a beast that they could not outrun -

“Mate?” The bartender snaps him from his thoughts, his voice questioning and note pad ready.

“Oh, yes, I'd like -”

“Is this him?” A blonde woman now stands at the other side of the bar, her white dress immaculate as she saunters to the bartender’s side, kissing him softly before surveying Liam with narrowed eyes. “Oh dear. This won't do. No, no, The manager will not like this, and if the other guests saw! Will, you should have told me!” Her voice is understated, amused even, as she smacks the bartender’s chest. Liam wishes she'd do it with some actual force.

“What's the problem, ma'am?” Liam sighs, getting ready to leave… Leave wherever here is. Where was he last? With the kids and the grandchildren, uncomfortable, waiting for... something. 

“Oh, no problem any more.” She snaps her fingers and there's a rush of wind as she cocks her head. “Much better. See Will? I am a miracle worker.”

The woman pushes a mirror towards him, and he is perfectly perplexed for several moments. Why is there a full length mirror in this bar? Further, he is positive it wasn't there before. Both thoughts fly out of his mind as he sees his reflection.

Liam slowly touches his face, an examination of his features in an expression of shock. Gone are the deep set wrinkles, the spots from sun and days out on their boat or skiing, gone is the silver and white that had taken the place of dark copper in his hair, and the beard, glasses and unkempt brows of the old man he is - or was? - are gone. He is no older than 30, eyes bright, dressed in evening wear for a black tie party like so many he has gone to or had when he still worked at the firm.

“This… This isn't right, this…” Liam stammers, stumbling back. The woman looks concerned, and comes to hold his arm. The bartender picks up his red phone again, dialing with a sigh.

“Ana, you scared the poor bloke. Now I have to call the big dogs, the party is already starting.” He talks in hushed tones that Liam can't hear to someone as the woman tries to soothe him. Guests begin arriving; a man in a green tweed suit with a dalmatian pin on his lapel, a woman in a deep plum dress who is giggling with a man that looks smitten with her but may also be carrying a bow and arrow that glows ethereally, a young woman in a barely there crimson dress dragging a man by his tie as he tries to wipe ruby colored lipstick from under his ear.

“I heard there was a problem?” a familiar voice asks. Liam looks up as the woman trying to comfort him backs away, and there is a sudden understanding.

“I - “ Liam tries, but it catches in his throat.

“Party crashing at your age, older brother? I'd say bad form, if it wasn't all partially for you.” Killian claps him on the back as Liam shakes. “It's good to finally see you again.” His younger brother whispers, holding him tightly, before letting go. Emma stands next to him nervously, but at the small smile Liam tries to give her, presses a kiss to his cheek.

Killian and she look beautiful, the navy blue dress she's in just a touch too dark to match his happy eyes, his suit dark against her fair hair and skin.

Liam tries to speak but can't find the words, can't process what this means and if it is what he believes it to be, where is? Why is she not-

There's a countdown going and Emma gives his arm a squeeze, shouting down numbers from ten with the crowd, and then he sees her. People part around her as she glides toward him in her shimmering gown, and Liam is no longer lost, only blissfully happy and in love as she lets him gather her into his arms, lets him cry happy tears of joy.

The numbers are even lower now as she steps on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. She is vibrant and beautiful and there is no trace of the illness that took her eight years too early from his life, but it doesn't matter because her words are there under the noise of the party goers.

“I missed you so much, Liam Jones.”

Her smile makes him feel electric.

“Not as much as I missed you, Elsa Jones.”

“Happy New Year!” Everyone else is yelling, but Liam is too busy kissing his wife as other couples take their lead, confetti floating down around them. Liam breaks away to spin Elsa, her giggling infectious.

“You have a lot of people to meet, and a lot of catching up to do.” Elsa laughs, poking Liam’s shoulder gently.

“I believe you'll find, Elsa, darling,” peppering kisses across her face, his need to touch her overwhelming, “that we have all the time in the world for that now.” Her laughter is joined by others, as Killian watches with Emma in his arms, swaying to gentle music.

“I think maybe one day I would like to go back, try a different universe, stay with each other like they did. Imagine more time, or children, or -”

“Or being rival pirates, or royalty, or taking dragons, or having magic?”

“Any time spent by your side, in any realm, in any universe is the adventure of a lifetime and hundreds more, Emma.” There's nothing but sincerity in his words, and Emma molds into his touch.

“I love you, Killian.”

“I love you too, Emma. To hundreds of more Happy New Years.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of my love to y'all in the New Year.
> 
> You can find me at Courtorderedcake.tumblr.com if you'd like to say hi. <3

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at Courtorderedcake.


End file.
